Merlin's Beard, IT'S Merlin!
by Paulzies
Summary: 'Tis I, the great Merlin. Wizard Extraordinaire. Maker of Kings. Most Handsome Man Alive. And I have returned, and only because some snot-nosed brat survived the Killing Curse and I, for the life of me, just can't figure out how.
1. chapter 1

**A/N: So, this was something I thought of overnight. And by the time it was morning, I thought to myself, _I have to write this_. So I did. Surprise!**

* * *

 **Prologue/Chapter 1:**

Satisfied with my appearance in the mirror, I did a twirl. "Nicky," I laughed, "don't I look fabulous?" The hems of my brand new Hogwarts robes spun upwards into the air, exposing my legs from my bare feet to my thighs. "I bet everyone will be looking at me."

"They certainly will," agreed Nicholas, my long-time friend, "but only because of your hair."

I frowned and stopped spinning to face the mirror again. I tugged at the unruly white mess that was my hair. "Is it really that weird?" I asked. "There are wizards with green, even purple hair. And lots of Muggles have even funkier hairdos!"

"Yes, it is," Nicholas said disinterestedly. "The only person in Hogwarts with hair like yours is Dumbledore. You'll fit _right in_ ," he said the last line sarcastically.

"Well," I said, turning around. That prat Nicholas was still sitting in his armchair, his eyes having never left his book the whole conversation. Even when I was changing. He _really did_ only have eyes for Perenelle. "Maybe if _somebody_ didn't mess up the anti-aging potion, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Nicholas put down his book, leveling a stare at me. Looks like the little jab was enough to rile him up.

"You were _born_ with white hair. How is a potion that reverses aging suppose to give you a hair colour you've _never_ _had_?"

"I know that," I snapped. "You know that." Then very discretely, I whispered, "but the _potion_ didn't know that. It was supposed to give me black hair like everybody else!"

Nicholas looked like he wanted to argue back. But then he sighed and went back to his book. He knew a lost battle when he saw one. The poor child could never fight against my impeccable logic.

"You know, Nicholas," I said, "you're being awfully calm about this."

"About what?" he asked.

"This whole me-returning-to-Hogwarts-and-pretending-to-be-a-student thing."

"Oh, _that_ ," he said, nodding his head. "That's because I'd rather not know."

"What? Why not?"

"Legal immunity," he explained, "I can't get pinned as an accomplice to a crime I'm not even aware of."

I blinked. "That's very sly of you." Admitting it was more painful that I thought. "But this really isn't one of my shenanigans." Really, as someone who's known me for centuries, I really thought Nicholas would at least give me the benefit of the doubt. Then again, as someone who's known me for centuries, who could blame him?

"It's not?" He looked up again, sounding geuinely surprised.

"Of course it isn't!" I proclaimed, "I'm offended you would think I would ever return to _school_ of all places on nothing more than a childish whim!"

Nicholas stared at me. Like, really stared at me. Like, pierced-into-my-soul-with-his-rainbow-coloured-irises stared at me. "Look me in the eyes," he said solemnly, "and tell me that you aren't going back to Hogwarts just so you can cause trouble for the many prepubescent girls there."

Now _that_ was an idea.

"Of course I'm not," I denied vehemently. "I'm going there to satisfy an intellectual curiosity!" Honestly, it was like our past few years together had done nothing but inculcate the worst possible impression of me in Nicholas' mind. Though that was probably on me.

His stare didn't drop. Neither did mine. And after a furious staring battle, he finally relented. "Fine," he said. "Humour me and tell me about this 'intellectual curiosity' of yours."

I gave him a big smile. I conjured up a newspaper article I'd seen earlier this week and put it in front of his face. The one that had led to my sudden enrolment in Hogwarts. On the front page was a newborn, as ugly as all the others, except this one had a funny-looking lightning-shaped scar on his head.

 _Boy-Who-Lived Due to Start School in Hogwarts Next Month_ , the headline read.

"A child," Nicholas collapsed his face into his palms. "You're even worse than I thought," he groaned.

"Get your head out of the gutter, Nicky-boy," I scolded him. Couldn't he tell that I was actually serious? "Don't you know anything about this kid?"

He squinted at the article. "Harry...Potter," he read. Then he shook his head. "Nope, can't say it rings a bell."

"Geez Nicky, where have you been the past ten years?" I shook my head. Even if we were immortal, keeping track of the Wizarding world and the world in general was important. How else were we going to find new members?

"In Congo," he said, deadpan. "Trying to stop an Inferi army raised by a psychotic Witch Doctor from taking over Africa."

"Oh," I said, vaguely remembering that something like that had happened a few years back. "Why wasn't I invited? It sounds like fun!"

"Fun?" He repeated, "I _nearly died_. Thirty thousand people _did die_! And you _were_ invited! But you missed your flight and didn't bother booking another!"

"That doesn't sound like me," I said defensively. Okay, it did. But it was probably because I found something better to do after that.

"You went on a holiday to learn snowboarding," Nicholas hissed. "I still have the postcards!"

"Oh, Switzerland," I said with nostalgia. " _Now_ I remember. But it's okay, you stopped them all by yourself in the end right? Good job!"

"Barely," he said. "But we are digressing. What's so special about this Harry Potter boy?"

I blinked. "Who's Harry Potter?" I asked.

"The kid!" He yelled, jabbing his finger into the newspaper. It was fun seeing him so exasperated.

"Oh," I said, "you mean the Boy-Who-Lived. Why don't you read the article? I think they mentioned his story somewhere there."

Sighing, Nicholas grudgingly placed the newspaper over his silly little book. While he read, I talked. So, you know, things wouldn't get boring between the two of us.

"Impressive right?" I asked. "Not even a few weeks old and he'd already gotten himself a title. Boy-Who-Lived. Sounds formidable, doesn't it."

"Uhn," grunted Nicholas.

"Why, I didn't get my first title until I was six! I still remember it. _Child of the Fae_."

"Mhm," Nicholas grunted again.

"Then after that was _Magus of the Flowers_. That one I really like."

"Uh huh"

"Then came _Maker of Kings_. Ah Arthur, lovely chap."

"Yep"

" _Vaniquisher of Evil._ Silly Morgan, thinking she could defeat me."

"Uhn"

" _Wizard Extraordinaire_ "

"Hn"

" _Most handsome man alive"_

Immediately, Nicholas looked up. "You made that last one up."

"Dang." Nicholas was still as sharp as ever. "I thought for sure you weren't listening."

"As if I'd ever let you have the chance to inflate your ego any larger than it already is. I'm done, by the way. You're right, this _is_ interesting." He put the newspaper back on the table.

"I'm always right," I pouted. "Yet you always seem surprised."

He ignored me. "This is unprecedented. The Killing Curse has never left behind a survivor before. Blocked, yes. Deflected... you probably know how," I did, actually. "But it struck the boy - the scar is proof of that - but did not kill him. Instead it rebounded back onto the caster himself. I've never even _heard_ of such a thing."

"So?" I asked, "it's a good idea to investigate, right?"

"Yes," Nicholas admitted, albeit quite unwillingly. "Do you have any theories?"

"Several," I replied, "almost all of which involve the parents."

"They're dead," Nicholas informed me helpfully.

"I know," I rolled my eyes at him. "I read the article too, you know? There's a reason why I'm getting close to the boy, and not his parents."

"And yet, you can't even remember the boy's name." Nicholas shook his head.

"Howard Peter?" I guessed. Nicholas groaned again. What? His name was something I would learn with time at my own pace. It was none of his business, anyway.

"And?" he asked again. "What will you do if you find out? Remember, the existence of the Council and its members must be kept a secret above all else."

Ah, the Council of Casters, the little secret club Nicholas and I were part of. The very people who pulled enough strings to get me re-enroled somehow. I wouldn't ever dare to break our _own_ internal Statute of Secrecy. They'd kill me. And now that Nicholas was my official accomplice, they'd kill him too. It didn't matter that we were technically immortal. They'd find a way. The Council always did.

"Well," I said, ridding my mind of the dark thoughts. "If it was an enchantment or charm, or something I could attach or cast onto an object, I'd do just that. I'd invent a portable Aveda Kedavra shield, Nicholas! Think of all the money I'd make!"

His only response was a terrifying glare.

I gulped, "and all the lives that would be saved, of course." I coughed into my hand, "precious human lives and what not."

"And if the effects aren't replicable?" He asked.

"Easy," I shrugged, I had everything all planned out. "He'll be our next member!"

"I thought you said they wanted Dumbledore to be our next member."

"They do. You gave him a Philosopher's Stone already, right?"

Nicholas nodded.

"Has he even _tried_ making himself immortal with it yet?"

"No."

"Well, if he's not immortal, we can't invite him, can we?"

"I guess not," Nicholas said morosely. Nicholas knew Dumbledore personally, and had been aggressively pushing for his inclusion into the Council ever since the man defeated a Dark Lord.

"Don't worry," I said. "He's still got what... twenty years left? Maybe he'll change his mind as he nears his end. That's when most of us did."

"Hopefully," he sighed.

"You know, Nicky," I smiled mischievously at him. "You still haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

I did another twirl. "Don't I look _fabulous_?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. But I could still see the tiny smile beneath his hand.

"Merlin," he growled out. "If you keep acting like an eight-year old girl instead of the eight-hundred-year-old man you are, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Fine," I said, not at all happy. "Be that way, Flamel."

* * *

 **A/N: So waddya think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm not going to copy and paste the canon-ical parts. All conversations will be original, even if the general theme is the same as in the books. Reason? I kinda lost my books.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2:**

Maths was hard. I scratched my head in puzzlement. Now, was I supposed to go to Platform Nine-and-Two-Thirds? Or was it Nine-and-Four-Fifths? I hadn't used the train in a while, and I'd certainly never gone to Hogwarts via the Hogwarts Express before.

I'd wanted to go there the old fashion way at first: Arriving in a bolt of lightning.

 _"Firstly, that was **never** the old fashioned way, I have **no idea** where you got that from." _Naturally, Nicholas had been a major spoilsport. _"Secondly, the old fashion way was via foot, broom, or magical creature, none of which will get you there in time."_

 _"I could Apparate,"_ I had suggested.

 _"Yes,"_ Nicholas had said in the most sarcastic way possible, _"and raise hundreds of alarm bells when people see a First Year Apparating. And if you're stupid enough to shatter the Hogwarts wards in the process, you'd have a squad of Aurors on your tail in an instant."_

 _"What if I Apparate, and then Obliviated everyone? Then I-"_

 _"For once in your life, Merlin. Can you please try to **pretend** to be normal and just **take the train** like everybody else?"_

And so, after hearing his logical explanation, I decided, after thorough consideration, to follow Nicholas' advice and give this 'Hogwarts Express' a try. Like every other boring and mundane magical student there was.

Unfortunately, Nicholas had been in such a rush to abandon me at King's Cross Station that he never actually told me where to go from here. Which led to the very embarrassing conclusion that I was now lost.

 _Hmmm, Platform Seven and a Half goes to Europe, doesn't it?_ I tried to recall. I didn't go on the train very often. It was often far too slow. But that didn't mean I was completely clueless. _And Platform Eight and Three-Sevenths goes to the Centre of the Earth, doesn't it? Or was that Platform Twelve and Two-Ninths?_

This was hopeless. Maybe I should seek help. There had to be other people going to Hogwarts, I just needed to follow them. I surveyed the throngs of people that crowded the station.

Now... I just needed to separate the Magicals from the Muggles. _Easier said than done_ , I sighed. There were too many people, and ever since the Salem Witch Trials, Magicals had taken special effort to avoid the attention of Muggles, blending in and-

 _Never mind, found them_.

It really looked as if they weren't even trying. A whole gaggle of redheads, many of whom were pushing trolleys of crates and luggage. There was even an owl thrown in - a beautiful white Snowy Owl. _Way to go guys_ , I mentally cheered, _you've definitely managed to avoid the eye of every Muggle here._ I looked around, wanting to see the many strange looks they would be getting.

Surprisingly, there were none. That was definitely odd. I took a closer look at them. Then I saw the thin layer of magic coating them. Ah, a weak glamour charm. _Perhaps they aren't a whole bunch of idiots_ , I realised when they had at least taken _some_ precaution. It was very weak, and anyone that had the potential to cast magic, even a Squib, would have been able to see through it. Meaning, it was catered entirely to fooling only Muggles. If their assortment of baggage wasn't enough proof, now I knew for certain that they were Magicals.

One by now, I watched them rush headlong into the narrow brick wall separating platforms Nine and Ten. _Ah, it's Platform Nine and Three Quarters!_ _How could I have forgotten?_ The last to go was the only black-haired boy in the family. He seemed nervous, and the large lady who could only have been the mother gently coaxed him into dashing headfirst into the wall. _Well, we know who the adopted one is now._

It was terrible of me, but at the last moment I prayed for a magical malfunction which would have sealed off the entrance. It would have been a hilarious sight, and would probably traumatise the boy for life. He'd probably never trust the mother again. When alas, he made it through without a hitch, I took a deep breath and walked towards them.

"Excuse me," I said, putting on my best eleven-year-old-boy voice, "but is this way the way to Hogwarts?" I asked.

The woman looked down in surprise, and I noticed her staring at my hair momentarily before she smiled at me. "Oh, hello there!" she said cheerfully. Her daughter, who probably hadn't enrolled yet, immediately went to hide behind her. "Are you a First Year too?"

"Yes," I nodded enthusiastically. "My parents couldn't make it today," I pretended to sound sad. "So I'm not very sure what to do."

"Another one? I just helped another boy just like you!" she exclaimed. _Another boy_? So perhaps that black-haired boy hadn't actually been part of the family. "Oh well, darling. All you have to do," she pointed towards the brick wall her children had run through, "is to go through that wall, thinking 'Platform Nine and Three Quarters', okay?"

"Alright, sounds easy," I said, and began to walk towards it.

"Maybe you should try running towards it," she advised. "It helps with the focus."

"I think I'll be fine," I turned back to wave at her, back-pedaling with my legs as I did so. "Thank you for all the help, Madam!"

Her face scrunched up, as if she realized something was amiss. "Wait!" she yelled out. I put my hand on the wall. Solid brick, like I had imagined. But as sensitive to magic as I was, I could feel the life hiding behind it. "Where's your luggage?"

I smiled at her. "Haven't got any, Madam."

 _Platform Nine and Three Quarters_ , I thought, and before she could respond, I pushed myself into the wall.

* * *

Children, I groaned. Everywhere I looked, every direction I turned, every voice I heard. It was all squeaky little midgets. Except, now I was one of those squeaky midgets.

The train was already pulled up next to the platform. It was an old steam locomotive, outdated by modern standards, but I was pretty sure whatever enchantments had been placed on it made it no less inferior. There were so many carriages. Which one did I board? Or were they split by year? The first carriage was clearly for Prefects only, if the sign outside its entrance was anything to go by.

Maybe I should go on that one. I was once a Prefect at Hogwarts. I think. It was so long ago, how could I even remember? The shiny badge did look nice though. Maybe I could steal one, and impersonate a prefect. Even better, I could conjure one and-

- _Merlin, just try to be normal, please. Don't do anything stupid that might raise too much attention._ Nicholas wasn't even around anymore, but his pesky little voice was still in my mind, ruining all my fun.

I let out a puff of misty air. It was kind of cold. It was September already, wasn't it? Almost winter. I should have brought more clothes. Then I spied a familiar mop of red hair climbing onto one of the carriages.

 _I followed him once, might as well follow him a second time_ , I figured. Their family seemed like a helpful lot. Maybe he knew how to be a Prefect.

Once I boarded the train, I proceeded to stick my head into every cabin until I found somebody with that distinctive red hair. Imagine my surprise when I found _two of them_ , looking exactly like one another. And imagine their surprise when a confused-looking white-haired boy poked their head into their cabin while they were snogging with the girls sitting next to them.

"Hullo," one of them said awkwardly. "Can we help you?"

"You should say no to that," the other one grinned. "We're kind of in the middle of something here."

"Which you would have known if you'd seen the 'Privacy Please' sign on our door," the first one continued.

I had seen it. I just didn't care. I mean honestly, if they really wanted not to be disturbed, they should have at least locked the door or charmed it or something. A simple sign was hardly enough the stop me, the Great Merlin, Wizard Extraordinaire, from doing as I pleased.

"I'm looking for a boy," I said. "Looks kinda like you guys, same hair, but shorter?"

"You mean Li'l Ronniekins?" one of them asked.

I shrugged. I had no idea what a Ronniekins was.

"Eight doors down, cabin to your left," the other supplied helpfully, before locking lips with the girl next to him. Well, if that wasn't a signal that the conversation was over, I didn't know what was.

"Thanks," I said, not that they heard me over the sound of the giggling girls.

When I closed the door, this time I put a few locking and noise-muffling charms on it. _Well done, boys_ , I silently congratulated them. They clearly had important things to do, and I was always one to help a fellow man. Now nobody could disturb them.

After walking past eight doors, I turned to the left. There was no privacy sign on this door, but I knocked to be safe. Who knows? Maybe smoothness ran in this red-haired family. "Come in," somebody said.

I swung the door open. To my dismay, there were no girls inside. At least the redheaded boy was inside, as well as the black-haired one who had been with his family.

"Can I sit here?" I asked, sitting down before they could even say anything.

"Uh, sure," Mister Glasses replied.

"I'm Ronald Weasley," the redhead said. "But most people just call me Ron."

"Harry," the bespectacled boy said, "Harry Potter."

I blinked. Now why did that sound familiar?

"Oh!" I immediately remembered. "Do you know a Howard Peter?"

He shirked back. Then very uncertainly, he said, "no?"

"Dang," I cursed. "I wanted to meet the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry blinked. There was a sputtering sound from Ron.

"That's him!" Ron pointed at Harry. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

I looked back at Harry. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived?" I asked.

He nodded. "I think so. That's what everybody says, at least."

"So _you are_ Howard Peter!" I exclaimed. "Why did you lie about your name?"

"I didn't," he looked confused. "My name _is_ Harry Potter."

"Harhar, very funny guys," I shook my head. "That was a good prank, I'll admit."

"What are you talking about?" Ron seemed to be losing it. "Show him the scar, Harry!"

Carefully, Harry brought a hand up to pull back his fringe. And there, hidden on his forehead, was a very familiar-looking lightning-shaped scar. The slight hum of magic that came from within could only confirm its authenticity.

 _Well, would you look at that. The redheads really are good luck, aren't they?_

But now I was only more confused. "So you're Harry Potter," I said to Harry. He nodded. Then I turned to Ron. "And Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived." This time they both nodded. Which just left one very important question... "So who's Howard Peter?"

* * *

"So what you're telling me is," I said slowly to Harry and Ron, trying to absorb all the information that they'd dumped on me. "This Howard Peter person doesn't exist."

"YES!" Ron cheered, "THAT'S _EXACTLY_ WHAT WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU."

"That can't be right," I frowned. "He was on the newspaper."

"That was all Harry!" Ron pointed at Harry. "It's Harry that defeated," then he whispered very softly, " _You-Know-Who."_

I blinked. "No, I don't know who."

"You know," Ron leaned forwards, cupping his mouth. "The Dark Lord. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

I knew many Dark Lords, many of whom were defeated by me. But all of them had names. I shook my head. "Nope. No idea who you are talking about." How was I supposed to know which Dark Lord he was talking about if there wasn't a name?

Harry sighed. "I think he means-"

"No, don't say it!" Ron raced to cover Harry's mouth. "If you say Voldemort's name, he'll haunt you in your nightmares!"

Oh Voldemort. That little upstart. Hmph, I wouldn't really have classified him as a Dark Lord. Maybe a Dark Squire? Wait, hadn't Ron just said Voldemort's name?

Harry blinked, his mouth still beneath Ron's palm.

I looked at Ron, who still had a very stern expression on his face. _How could somebody so dense exist?_

Then finally, Ron seemed to realise the act of hypocrisy he'd committed. "Oh no," he said very softly, and he collapsed back to his seat, bringing his hands to cup his head. Honestly, he'd only said a name, it wasn't as if he'd committed a grave sin. "I've said it," Ron said. "It's over."

"It's alright Ron," Harry said comfortingly, "I mean he's dead right?"

I raised an eyebrow. _The piece of Dark Magic on your forehead begs to differ._ Still, I couldn't be sure it was a Horcrux buried in the scar until I actually got a closer look.

"It's Dark Magic, Harry. You wouldn't understand. Magic can survive its caster's death. You-Know-Who is going to find me, and I'm going to die!" Ron yelled out, his face paling as he began to panic.

"You know," I pointed out. "You've already said his name once. There's really no harm in you just using it from now on. What's he going to do, kill you _twice_?"

Ron glared at me. "This isn't funny."

"It's funny to me," I smiled.

"It won't be funny to you when You-Know-Who breaks through that door and kills us all."

"It's just a fairytale," I said in exasperation. Honestly, he was an eleven-year-old boy. Did he still think there were monsters hiding under his bed? Well actually, there _were_ , but I hadn't found out about _that_ until I was three hundred years old. "And besides," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "He may be a Dark Lord, but he's not a barbarian. He'll knock first."

Harry grinned. Even Ron seemed more relaxed at my joke.

'Thunk Thunk'

Until someone actually knocked on the door.

 _No way. It was a joke_. _The Dark Lord wouldn't actually knock, would he? Oh boy, I think I jinxed us all._

"IT'S HIM! HE'S COME FOR US! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Ron screamed and ducked to cower in fear underneath the table.

"No," Harry said, his quivering tone betraying the fear he was experiencing, " _You_ said his name. He's come for _you_. So only _you_ are going to die."

"You were the one to defeat him, Harry!" Ron said, "obviously he'll want his revenge, right?!"

"Oh." Judging by that, Harry really hadn't thought his earlier words through. Moments later, he was hiding with Ron underneath the table. "Maybe if we don't answer, he'll just go away." _Kids_ , I thought. _It's like they've never even met a Dark Lord before._ Didn't one of those brats defeat one when he was just a few weeks old?

Through the translucent glass of the door, I could see someone standing outside, waiting. Whoever it was, they weren't tall enough to be a Dark Lord. _Who'd ever met a short Dark Lord before?_ Certainly not me.

"Hello?" the voice from the other side was clearly female, and she sounded quite uncertain of herself. "Is there space for one more in there?" she asked.

"Oh, it's a girl!" Ron heaved a sigh of relief, as the two of them climbed out and returned to their seats. "We're safe!"

I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. "Girls can be Dark Lords too, you know? Or Dark Ladies. Or Dark Witches, whatever they are called." My first Arch-nemesis, Morgana Le Fay, came to mind. Now that had been a fun battle.

"Yea, but as long as the Dark Lord isn't You-Know-Who, it's all good!" Ron said happily. What in the world was he talking about? There were no 'good' Dark Lords. Otherwise they'd just be called Lords and... people used to call me Lord Merlin back in the day, hadn't they? Hmmm... maybe there _were_ good Dark Lords.

"I can hear you guys talking in there," the girl said, clearly tired of waiting. "Can you just let me know if there is a seat or not?"

"Are you a Dark Lord?" I asked through the door. You know, just to be safe.

"NO!"

I paused. "That's exactly what a Dark Lord would say if they were trying to sneak in and kill us all." Actually, it wasn't. Dark Lords were a prideful breed, and announcing their intentions and identity was something they all seemed to be fond of.

There was only stunned silence on the other end.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm eleven years old and a First Year at Hogwarts. Please, can you let me in? I just _really want to sit down_."

She sounded so pitiful that I would have opened the door for her anyway, Dark Lord or not. Still... Eleven was kind of young, she was basically still a child. Why couldn't she be seventeen? That was the oldest in Hogwarts, right?

A bushy-haired girl marched her way in. She immediately plopped the big book she was carrying on the table before sitting down on the last remaining seat. As if on cue, there was loud train whistle, and the whole carriage shuddered as the magical engines roared to life.

"About time," Ron said as the Hogwarts express finally began to chug its way forwards. "It feels like it's been forever!"

"Are you all First Years too?" the Hermione girl asked.

"Yep," we said together. She looked quite pleased.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"We know," I said. "You said it just now while you were outside."

She suddenly looked very embarrassed. "Well, that wasn't a formal introduction."

"Just ignore him, he's been a minor pain in the bum ever since he came in," Ron said. _How dare you_ , I thought, _I'm anything but minor._ "I'm Ron," continued the redhead, "nice to meet you."

"I'm Harry," Harry said.

Hermione immediately stood up. "Are you by any chance, Harry Potter?"

Oh, she knew him too? What a coincidence. It was like he was famous or something.

"Um, yes. That will be me."

"You're the Boy-who-lived!" she said, almost accusatory. "You defeated," her voice dropped to a low whisper, "You-know-who."

 _Oh come on_. _Don't tell me everybody believes in that nonsense._

"That's what everybody says," Harry laughed nervously. "But I really don't remember. I didn't even know magic was real until a few weeks ago. I live with my Muggle relatives."

"Really? Me too!" Hermione asked, more excited than ever. "Both my parents are Muggle," she explained.

A Muggleborn? Fascinating.

"Well then," Harry seemed relieved, "hopefully we can be lost together in lessons," he chuckled.

"Nope," Hermione shook her head, thinking that Harry was being serious instead of joking. "I've read all the books in advance to make sure that doesn't happen," then she showed us the book in front of her. _Hogwarts: A History_ , the title read. "I can't let myself fall behind in lessons just because I was raised a Muggle."

Well, wasn't she prepared? I saw Ron shaking his head, mouthing the word ' _Nerd_ ' to himself. She probably was, but the best and brightest wizards and witches had always understood that knowledge was power. Including myself, of course. I always kept myself up to date with events of the world, Muggle or Magic. Why, just next week was the reveal of Victoria's Secret's Winter collection! What the seasons had to do with lingerie was something I didn't understand, but was most certainly eager to find out.

"So what's your name?" Hermione suddenly asked, looking straight at me.

"Yea," Ron realised, "you never did tell us. And you've been sitting with us for Merlin knows how long. Who are you?"

"I'm Merlin," I said casually.

"Har har," Ron rolled his eyes. "Like that'll work on us." Of course, I'd expected such a reaction. That was why I never bothered to change my name for the enrollment.

"Merlin died hundred of years ago," Hermione informed us, "he was born in the medieval ages."

"I'm not kidding," I said calmly. "My name is Merlin Pendragon."

"Stop pulling our legs," Ron scowled. "We told you _our_ names, didn't we? And Harry's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Yes," agreed Hermione, "I find it highly unlikely that your name is Merlin, and that your family name is that of King Arthur's. If you don't want to tell us your real name, you can always just say so." She looked quite upset with me.

This was going to be fun, I knew for certain. I shrugged. "You can always find out during the Sorting," I said.

The very word 'Sorting' sent them into an excited fit, and they completely forgot about the topic of my name.

"I want to go to Gryffindor," Hermione declared proudly. "All the best Wizards and Witches go there." _Um excuse me?_ _Legendary alumnus of Slytherin right here Miss Granger, sitting right across you._

"That's right," Ron said, "my family's been Gryffindors for generations!"

"What... what's this Sorting and Gryffindor thing you're all talking about?" Harry asked, sounding completely lost. Poor boy, he probably didn't know a thing about the Magical Soceity.

"It's the Houses!" Ron exclaimed. "You don't know?"

Harry shook his head, and Hermione jumped at the opportunity to recite an obviously memorized paragraph detailing the social structure in Hogwarts. She wasn't a Gryffindor, I realised, she was a bloody Ravenclaw through and through!

"And that's how it all works," she concluded to a bewildered Harry.

"Mate," Ron clapped him on the back, "all you need to know is that Gryffindor's the best! Dumbledore's from Gryffindor!"

"Merlin's from Slytherin though," I calmly interjected. "And we all know that Merlin's the greatest wizard _ever_." _I dare you guys to contradict me, I dare you_. I was quite pleased when they didn't.

"Was he?" Hermione sounded intrigued. "I didn't know that!" Then from her robes she pulled out a notebook and began to jot things down.

"Well," Ron grumbled unhappily, "you know who else is from Slytherin? Grindelwald! You-Know-Who! All the Death Eaters! They're a rotten bunch nowadays!"

Were they now? Slytherin had been the most popular house back in my day. No other House Head taught _their_ students curses. Hmm... maybe that was part of the problem.

Our little house debate was suddenly interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door.

To my disappointment, it wasn't a Dark Lord. It was, instead, a nice lady pushing a cart filled with confectionery and pastries.

"I, uh, haven't gone any money right now," Ron said shyly when she asked if we wanted to buy any.

Hermione shook her head correspondingly.

I had money. But I wasn't willing to spend it on sweets for a bunch of brats. So I just shrugged.

"I'll take a little bit of everything for everyone," Harry said when everybody ended up looking to him, much to Ron's delight. Lovely, the Boy-Who-Lived was also the Boy-Who-Gave. Another great reason to stick close to him.

Minutes later, we had a small mountain of candy on the table between us.

"This is great, mph!" Ron said while covering his mouth. There was something inside of it, and it looked like it was trying to escape, as bulges appeared in and out of his cheeks. "Thanks Harry!"

"What's that?" Hermione asked, pointing at the wrapper still in Ron's other hand.

"Chocolate Frogs." Ron bit down hard, and the movement in his mouth suddenly stopped. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, a lone chocolate-y frog leg was hanging outside his lips, still twitching slightly before becoming completely still. _That's awesome_ , I thought, immediately digging through the pile to find one of them. "You have to be careful when you're eating them, because they're charmed to escape. And look, they come with cards!" He held out a small rectangle, which showed a picture of a wizened old man wearing glasses.

 _Albus Dumbledore._

"Dang," Ron said, "I seem to always get Dumbledore."

At this point, Harry and I had both managed to find one. Hermione looked at us disgustingly, shaking her head. "How can you guys eat that? It looks so _alive_."

"It's chocolate," I said, tearing open the wrapper. "And chocolate is always nice."

Harry nodded in agreement. Unfortunately, that little slip in attention caused his frog to wriggle out of his fingers where it hopped out the window to freedom. "What a waste," he said.

Carefully, I stuffed my frog into my mouth. It tasted delicious. Nothing could go wrong with chocolate. Even if it was bouncing around in your mouth and trying to escape. I wanted to see how long the magic would last. Would the frog keep trying to escape even if its legs were melted off? Would the chocolate even melt in my mouth? _Only one way to find out_.

"What cards did you guys get?" Ron asked.

I looked at my own, and suppressed a chuckle.

 _Nicholas Flamel_. Except it wasn't. They showed a wizened old man, dumping a bunch of weird materials into a cauldron. _The Alchemist_. The back had a short biography, noting his education in Beauxbatons and his invention of the Philospher's stone. Besides those two facts and the glasses, it was completely off. For one, Nicholas hadn't had white hair since he was two hundred years old. And nowadays, he looked like he was only forty. I kept the card in my pocket. I had to show this to Nicholas the first chance I got. He would throw a fit, and only because he'd never used a cauldron in any of his alchemy work before.

"I got Merlin," Harry said in surprise.

"I have a card?" I asked, covering my mouth so the frog couldn't hop out.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously not _you_. The _real_ Merlin." Hey, I was as real as I could get. She leaned over, wanting to get a better look. Harry saved us all the trouble and held it up to show us all.

"Look at that," Ron smirked, "Merlin's an old man!"

"We have the same hair," I pointed out.

"Yes," Hermione said sarcastically, "and you're also eight hundred years old."

"Eight hundred and thirty seven, actually," I corrected her.

Everybody rolled their eyes.

"Merlin," Harry said. When Ron and Hermione looked at him oddly, he shrugged, "it's not like I have anything else to call him by, right?"

"Yes?" I replied with a big smile, "and if calling me Merlin makes you uncomfortable, you can always call Handsome. Or Prince Charming. Or Mister Wizard Extraordinaire. I am fine with any of those nicknames."

"Merlin," Harry repeated firmly. Ah, it was worth a try. "Why is your hair all white, anyway?"

"Why is _your_ hair _brown_?" I asked back.

Harry frowned. "I was born this way."

"Then so was I," I said.

"That _can't_ be true," Hermione said with an I-know-more-than-you tone. "Nobody's born with white hair," she said confidently. Then she stopped and thought for a bit. "Except albinos, and you're definitely not albino. That's basic science! White hair comes from the degradation of melanin levels in our hair!"

" _That's basic science_ ," I mimicked in her annoying voice. "Would you believe me if I said that _this_ ," I pointed to my hair, "is _magic_?"

"That's ridiculous," Ron said. "There aren't any wizards or witches born with white hair either. What kind of magic gives you white hair?"

"Secret magic," I said, trying to be as mysterious as possible. I couldn't very well say Fairy Magic and reveal the Fae to ordinary students now, could I?

Predictably, they didn't believe me. "I can't wait for the professors to meet you," Ron sighed. "Then you'll have to stop bluffing us and tell us all your secrets."

Hermione and Harry nodded, looking at me with identical 'I'm-tired-of-your-nonsense' faces, something which Nicholas seemed to wear whenever I was around.

"I very much doubt that's ever going to happen," I said with a big grin.

* * *

At some point in the train ride, we fell into a comfortable silence. Or maybe we didn't. I wouldn't know because I went to sleep while Hermione was talking about uh... something. Something so boring that it banished me into dream land.

Then someone opened the door with all the gracefulness and gentleness of a dragon. Which meant to say he slammed it open, causing me to wake up quite abruptly.

"I heard that Harry Potter's in this cabin. Which one of you would that be?" a sharp, whiny, and arrogant voice said.

Blearily, I rubbed my eyes open. This dismissive and scathing tone... "Morgana?" I asked, still trying to wake up completely. "What are you doing here?"

"Who's Morgana?" the same voice asked. It was too high-pitched to be Morgana. No, it was a kid. His face was set in a sneer, and his combed-back hair was so blonde it nearly looked white. There were two people standing behind him, but the doorframe blocked out their faces. But they were big.

"Not you," I said. "Why'd you wake me up?"

He blinked in surprise. "You're Harry Potter?" he asked.

"No," I frowned. "I'm Merlin."

Suddenly the other three broke out into snickers when they saw his very confused face.

"Oh." The boy said in realisation. "A joke. That was a good one," he smirked. Then he stuck out a hand towards me. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, still not entirely awake. When was the last time I actually slept? A month ago? "Nice meeting you, now bye bye." I shooed him away with my hand. Heavens, I was exhausted. This was why I didn't like sleeping, because I wouldn't feel awake until hours later.

"Wait!" Draco said, "I want to talk to you."

I clicked my tongue. "Well, I want to sleep."

"It's three in the afternoon," Draco frowned.

"Well it's midnight in Asia."

"You came from the colonies?" Draco asked in surprise.

 _What colonies_? _We still had those_? I shook my head. "I'm from Britain. But Asians are very smart. So if they're sleeping now, that means I should be too."

"But-" with a wave of my hand, I sent a pulse of magic towards him, pushing him out and shutting the door.

"Next time," I said to him through the door.

There were several gasps that came from behind me.

 _Uh oh_.

"Was that wandless and silent magic?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

I yawned. That hadn't been very smart on my part. But I was sleepy, and I still was sleepy. "Nuh uh," I yawned. " _Secret_ Magic." Then I closed my eyes and rested my head against the corner again.

"How did you do that?" Hermione pressed on. _Persistent, isn't she_?

I shooed her away with my hand, saying to her what I'd said to Draco.

"Next time."

Just before I lost lucidity, a thought hit me.

Where did my Chocolate Frog go?

There was a sudden scream from Hermione. "GET IT OFF ME!"

Oh. I snuggled into my little corner even more.

 _Next time_.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

"We're here!"

An excited voice jolted me awake.

 _Five more minutes_ , I groaned. _No, make that ten_.

Somebody shook my shoulder, and it took all my willpower not to just blast them into oblivion. I opened my eyes reluctantly. It was that loud brainy girl, Hermenome or something.

"What do you want, Hermenome?" I stretched.

"It's _Hermione_ ," she rolled her eyes, before breaking into a big grin, showing off her buckteeth. "And we've arrived!"

I could feel the train decelerating, before grinding and jerking to a final halt. _Oh joy, school. I love school._

Why was I even here again?

"This is Hogwarts?" Harry asked, unimpressed as he looked outside. It was dark, but the great castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was a smattering of houses and low buildings. There were many people milling about, and the torches and lamps from the town was the only source of light in the autumn night.

 _Oh right_ , I reminded myself. I was here to study the peculiar boy known as Harry Potter. Who so far, had shown nothing remarkable to explain his ability to cheat past the Killing Curse.

Ron shook his head. "That's Hogsmeade. It's a village next to Hogwarts. The train stops at Hogsmeade Station, and the students go to the castle from here."

This was Hogsmeade? I blinked in surprise. It'd really grown. In my day, it was little more than a rest stop for parents sending their students off - an inn and a few shops, and nothing more.

It seemed the elation of arriving caused the three of them to forget my little display of advanced magic earlier. That was good - I didn't want them asking questions so fast.

"Come on, let's go!" Hermione's excitement was infectious. Even Ron and Harry leaped off their seats to follow her out. But a child's enthusiasm for learning was nowhere near enough to make an eight-hundred-year man look forward to leaving a warm and cozy train cabin for a chilly autumn wind. I sighed, and trudged after them.

I really should've brought more clothes.

It really was cold, like I had expected. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were huddled together, warming their hands with their misty breaths. "Where do we go from here?" asked Harry.

Hogwarts was on a mountain, if I remembered correctly. But I seriously doubted that they expected students, especially First Years, to scale that mountain at night.

"First Years, with me!" A loud voice suddenly hollered.

Breaking through the veil of the night, a lantern-wielding man I immediately recognised as a half-giant walked towards us. It was rare to see a half-giant so old, since they were normally killed by disease or by other giants in their childhood years. Still, judging by his healthy beard and bulging belly, this one was in good shape.

"Hagrid!" Harry said in recognition, rushing up to him.

"Harry!" Hagrid replied with a cheer. "These yer friends?" he asked, pointing to us. Harry nodded. "Aye, that's good. The four of you can squeeze in-ter one boat."

 _Boat?_

I looked to the others. They seemed to be equally mystified as I was. Then I remembered that Hogwarts had a lake next to it. _Aren't there Giant Squids in it? And water demons?_ Oh well, at least Hogwarts hadn't lost any of its unique charm.

By now, a large crowd of students, all short and looking lost, had gathered around Hagrid. I saw Draco and waved to him cheerfully. He didn't seem very happy, but he acknowledged me with a nod at least.

Hagrid raised his finger and began to count, tallying up the numbers with a sheet of paper in his hands. It would've been funny if he miscounted, and we accidentally abandoned one of our fellow First Years in the station.

"Right-o, let's go children! Ter Hogwarts!"

There was a small cheer from the crowd, and we followed Hagrid as he lumbered onwards into the night.

"My brothers never mentioned anything about a boat," Ron said, shivering in the cold. That was right, I remembered. There was a whole gaggle of Ron-like children in the school.

Hermione, the ever-diligent reader, had her nose pressed into her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. "It says here," she said through chattering teeth, "that the boats are only used for incoming First-Years and outgoing graduating Seventh-Years."

"We... we won't have to row the boats ourselves, will we?" Harry asked.

Hermione had no answer to that. Personally, I thought that would be fun. No better way to stave off the cold than with exercise.

"It's magic," Ron said confidently. "...I think. I mean, it has to be, right? What if we get lost rowing the boat? Or what if we overturn?"

"Then we die," I said. "Either from the cold, or from the humiliation."

"Aren't _you_ a bundle of joy," Ron muttered. "And we _still_ don't know your name."

"Or how you did the silent _and_ wandless magic," Hermione pointed out.

"I told you," I turned and gave them my most charming smile, "I'm Merlin."

* * *

When we first reached the docks, all that greeted us was a calm and empty surface of water. _The Great Lake_ , I recognised. _I think there are merpeople here too, aren't there?_ Somebody from my year got drowned by them if I recalled correctly.

"Where are the boats?" Ron asked.

"Maybe we have to swim," Harry said grimly.

Hagrid's deep voice boomed with laughter. "Yer more than welcome ter try, Harry. Don't worry yer li'l bums, children. The boats are comin'."

On cue, something broke through the mist that had settled over the lake. A small glow in the distance. And then another joined it, and soon it looked like a whole swarm of fireflies were floating above the lake.

They were not fireflies. Instead an armada of small wooden rowboats drifted towards us, their oars invisibly manned, a lantern hanging off each of their bows.

"There's more than enough for everybody," Hagrid laughed, "off you go then, young'uns. Hop into any one of'em. Not more'n four per boat though!"

Taking lead, Hagrid leaped off the wooden jetty and landed in one of the boats. Despite his large size, the flimsy wooden boat didn't even shudder. They were enchanted, it seemed, though that should have been obvious the moment they rowed themselves to shore. "It's perfectly safe. Now you give it a turn."

Ron looked at Hermione. "Ladies first," he grinned, gesturing towards the boat that was nearest to us.

Hermione looked uncertain and moved closer to the edge. Her toes were hanging over the wooden planks. Around her, many other students did the same. All of them seemed to harbour distrust against the wooden vessels.

 _Seriously,_ I rolled my eyes at the scene. _They're magic, children. And if you can't wrap your mind around it, how are you ever going to master it?_ "You guys are such wusses," I said, moving backwards to create running space.

The nearby students turned around to look at me. Some of them sneered. "You go first then."

I smiled, "gladly." Then I sprinted towards the boat below Hermione.

"Don't! It's not safe!" she yelled towards me.

At the last moment I jumped off the boardwalk, did a flip in the air, and landed perfectly upright with my hands outstretched. The boat hadn't even rocked. Those gymnastic lessons with the circus in the nineteen-hundreds really _did_ pay off.

"Bravo!" Hagrid began to applaud like an excited child. "Who's next?"

Encouraged by my little stunt, the others began to gently lower themselves into the boats. "You're such a showoff," Hermione huffed as she gingerly stepped into the boat.

"I _am_ the Greatest Wizard alive, after all," I winked at her.

"You're still going on about _that_?" Ron asked as he jumped into the boat, "You do know we're going to find out your real name once the Sorting starts right?" Harry came in last and once he took his seat, the boat began to sail forwards by itself.

"I wonder what house I'll be," I said. I was a Slytherin last time, but it would be kind of boring to end up in the same house as before, wouldn't it?

"You're probably a Slytherin," Ron said with mock disgust. "Seeing how you're always lying to us. And then we're going to be enemies, because Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other."

"You all want to be Gryffindors?" Harry asked, looking to us.

"Of course!" Ron said. "I'll be bringing shame to my family if I wasn't sorted there."

Hermione nodded. "That's where the best witches go."

Harry seemed to consider it. "If that's the case, I think I would like to be in Gryffindor as well. What about you, Merlin?"

Hmm. If the boy I had come here to observe was going to be in Gryffindor, then... "I suppose I'll have to go there now too, wouldn't I?"

"You're going to have to be honest with us if you want to be in Gryffindor," Hermione scolded, "you have to tell us your real name!"

"I told you already, it's Merlin."

* * *

Hogwarts really hadn't changed a lot. I could feel the ancient magic passing through me as we crossed into its wards. That was the first indication that we were nearing. It was getting dark, and the castle itself was still hidden by the darkness.

The enchantments and protections had been drastically improved, I realised, as I compared the sensation with those in my memories. _Probably due to the Goblin Rebellion._ _Back when Hogwarts actually became a fortress instead of a school._

"We're gettin' close!" yelled out Hagrid from the lead boat.

The other three sat upright, their eyes glued forward as they waited for the school to come into view. I was more relaxed, choosing to stare into the water to see if I could find the Giant Squid. Hogwarts was grand and all, but it was too gloomy for my taste. Beauxbatons was more up my alley. Hogwarts was dull and grey. Beauxbatons was bright and pretty. The French had always been obsessed with beauty and it showed in their architecture... and their girls.

When they gasped, I knew that we had arrived. I looked up. Sitting on the peak of mountain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked magnificent. An infallible beacon of the magic world, having withstood the test of time and the elements. Walls constructed out of the finest and toughest stones. Crenellated spires that gave any defender a bird's eye view for kilometers around. Great arching bridges and hallways that linked the different buildings that comprised the castle. An indomitable fortress that would remain standing there until magic itself had died.

At least, that was the image the school was supposed to give. I knew of its bloody history. The wars that were fought on its grounds. The blood that was shed in its halls. The deaths that still haunted it. Even before it was a school, Hogwarts had been a symbol, a safe haven for the magical community. And because of that, it had been, and always would be, a target. Why else would Albus Dumbledore, the strongest mortal Wizard, be its Headmaster?

"It's _amazing_ ," Hermione murmured in awe. "Even the books and the pictures can't do it justice."

Despite myself, I smiled at her words. Seeing magic, experiencing magic, and casting magic for the first time was a euphoric experience. It was unforgettable, a defining moment in every magical person's life. Something words could never describe. And it represented the very essence of magic. Magic wasn't a science. It was a _feeling_. And that was something any good Wizard and Witch would learn during their time in Hogwarts.

The boats came to a stop in front of a jetty. Once everybody had gotten out, Hagrid asked us to line up in two neat rows and led us towards the castle.

"Did anybody lose their toad?" Hagrid raised an arm, and trapped between his large fist was a toad that looked like it did not want to be there. I suppressed a chuckle. Had he just picked it up from the lake? What kind of idiot would still have a pet toad in _this_ day and age? Honestly, it-

"Trevor!" A boy exclaimed, rushing forwards to take it gently from Hagrid's grasps. I blinked in surprise. _Well, I'll be damned. People like him still exist_. _What kind of toad has a name like Trevor? ...Maybe it's magic._ When he saw us looking at him, he timidly blushed and went back to his place in the line.

Before long, our path was obstructed by a set of large and heavy wooden doors.

"Anybody else lose anything?" Hagrid asked one last time. Nobody spoke up.

"Well then, welcome to Hogwarts, First Years!" Then he banged on the door.

" _Welcome back, Merlin Ambrosius_."

I froze. That was a name I hadn't heard in a very, _very_ long time. But when I saw that nobody else seemed to have heard that voice, I couldn't help but smile. They always said that Hogwarts was alive.

* * *

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, and also the House Head of Gryffindor." That was a surprise to me. I would have pegged her as a Ravenclaw. She gave off the same vibe as an elderly Rowena Ravenclaw. In fact, it was eerily similar how the two old ladies spoke and behaved. They even wore the same glasses.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said crisply. "The rest of the school is already in the Great Hall, and the Start-of-Year Feast will begin shortly. But before that, there will be a Sorting Ceremony."

The students buzzed with excitement. McGonagall then proceeded to launch into a brief explanation of how the House System worked, which sounded like a word-for-word repeat of the introduction Hermione had given us on the train.

"The Ceremony will begin shortly. For now, you will wait here." By this point, she had led us to an empty room. I could hear excited chatter coming from the other side of the doors next to us. It seemed like the rest of the school had already gathered. "I suggest you take the time to freshen up. The Ceremony will be in front of the whole school, after all."

I could see the others suddenly become nervous. Hermione tried to straighten her naturally bushy her, an impossible task. Harry tried to flatten his messy mop of brown hair. Ron took out a tiny mirror and began to check his teeth.

There was hardly any point in me freshening up. I would attract attention either way, what with my white hair. Once McGonagall left the room, I suddenly found Draco standing in front of me.

"Potter," he called. "How come your hair's all white?"

The other students began to whisper and murmur.

" _That's_ Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Where's his scar?"

I blinked. Then I realised Draco was talking to me. "I'm not Harry Potter," I told him. "I'm Merlin." There was some laughter from the other children around us.

Draco gave me a very flat stare. "You can't expect me to fall for that _twice_ , Potter." He was starting to sound slightly annoyed.

"I'm serious," I insisted. Then I pointed at _the real_ Harry Potter. " _He's_ Harry Potter."

"The glasses kid?" Draco asked disbelievingly.

I nodded. "Show him, Harry."

Reluctantly, Harry pulled back the hair he'd spent so much time trying to flatten, revealing the famous lightning-bolt-shaped scar. There was a audible hush when everybody became quiet as their gazes honed in on the Boy-Who-Blushed.

" _You're_ Harry Potter," Draco said. "The Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry nodded.

Draco turned to face me accusingly. "Then who in Merlin's name _are_ _you_?"

I gave him the biggest smile I could muster. "I'm Merlin."

* * *

Draco's temper and the amusement of the other students was suddenly interrupted by an invasion of ghosts. About twenty white translucent figures suddenly sailed into the room, flying past - and for some, _through_ \- us.

Amidst all the frightened screaming, I blinked. _That's new_ , I thought. There hadn't been any ghosts the last time I was here. I wondered if the presence of ghosts was a good or a bad thing. Ghosts arose from horrific and nasty deaths, and the presence of so many of them did make me question Hogwarts' safety record. But at the same time, the fact that so many of them still lingered showed that to an extent, they did seem to _enjoy_ haunting the school. Whatever the case, I knew that school wouldn't be so boring after all.

A lone ghost stopped in the air, cocked its bald head towards and grinned. "New students, eh?" his fat body shook with laughter. He looked like an ancient monk. "I look forward to seeing you in Hufflepuff!"

"Get going," a familiar sharp voiced interjected. "The Ceremony is about to begin."

The friendly ghost waved, before disappearing through a wall.

McGonagall asked us to form a line and follow her. As we walked behind her, I couldn't help but wonder how exactly they were going to Sort us. Back in my day, when the Founders had actually been alive, they had personally chosen the members of their Houses.

"My brothers told me that the Sorting is actually a test of strength. And that it's _really, really painful_ ," Ron frowned, seemingly thinking about the same thing as me. "I think they're pulling my leg."

"They have to be," Harry sounded worried. "None of us know any magic. What's there to even test us about?"

"I hope it's not a test. I'm completely unprepared," mumbled Hermione. Oh the irony, she probably knew the most out of everyone here, and she was a _Muggleborn_.

Finally we came to a stop in front of another pair of doors. "Come on now, children. The rest of the school is waiting," McGonagall offered a thin smile. "Weclome to Hogwarts."

The doors swung open. It was the smell that hit me first. Roast meat. I realised I didn't get to eat dinner on the train, and my stomach was now complaining from hunger. An aroma of spices and herbs wafted into my nose, making my mouth water. The Great Hall was... _great_. There was no other way to describe the venue where I had eaten my meals for nearly seven years in a row. If anything, it'd gotten _greater_. It was bigger now, with longer tables and more seats to accommodate more students. _Hogwarts has really grown,_ I realised. Thousands of candles were suspended from invisible strings, floating in the middle of the air to illuminate the room. Grand chandeliers hung down from a ceiling enchanted to look like the outside world. Instead of a boring drab of rock, the top of the Great Hall displayed a starry night sky. I could see ghostly silhouettes darting across the room, many of them hovering near us to get a closer look.

McGonagall marched us into the room, leading us directly through the center of the four long tables that separated the Houses. Like before, there was an elevated table in front of the student's seats, where the professors and the Headmaster sat. And there he was, Albus Dumbledore, watching us with a twinkle in his eye. His eyes caught mine, and I waved. It was difficult to tell with his long beard, but I think he smiled back.

The table on our right must have been the Gryffindor one, because I spied several boys with Ron's signature ginger hair, including the twins. They looked slightly miffed for some reason, and the rest of the table seemed to be mocking them. Then I remembered I never did lift the locking charms on their cabin door. And unless they knew the unlocking charm, they would have been trapped inside. _With two very pretty girls_ , I reminded myself. _I did them a favour._

The sight of all the food made me want to just leave the procession and just start eating at a random table. I saw racks of roast beef, grilled chickens, fried fish. Veritable mountains of pastries and desert lined every table. Good Lord, the pudding was huge too!

"This place is amazing," Harry whispered.

"Never seen a Feast before?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "I've seen them. But never eaten them." He did look to be rather skinny. The Boy-Who-Lived probably had a interesting backstory, one that I intended to find out sooner or later.

Ron sighed. "I think we've both got that in common."

We were lined up in front of the Headmaster's table, where the whole school could see us. And boy, were they looking. I noticed many of them looking at me, particularly my hair. I had the sudden urge to suddenly change its colour right there and then, just to see their reactions to a First-Year doing Self-Transfiguration.

Hermione began to pepper us with facts about the Great Hall she'd read from _Hogwarts: A History_. I quickly tuned her out. I remembered my first _real_ year in Hogwarts, doing something similar. The Four Founders had lined us up as well, and then they took turns choosing us by using a milder form of Legilimency that let them see our personalities, but not our secrets or memories. I had been the first person Salazar Slytherin had picked.

 _"You. What's your name?"_

 _"Merlin Ambrosius."_

 _"Merlin. You're mine."_

Salazar had been an interesting fellow. He made being in Slytherin fun, touting all the very rules that the Founders had set, and constantly giving them headaches when he wriggled out of trouble with a myriad of excuses. The best memory I had was when Salazar had found a baby Basilisk and kept it in his broom cupboard for a few months before the other Founders found out about it. I frowned. I never did find out what happened to it.

My happy little recollections were interrupted by McGonagall, who had placed a stool in front of us. And on that stool was a pointed hat. The kind that McGonagall herself was wearing, except while hers was new and stylish, this one was... repulsive.

"Is that a hat?" Ron asked. "It looks disgusting! Like it's several centuries old!" It probably was, I felt.

"I hope we don't have to wear it," Hermione frowned. "It looks very dirty."

I stared at it. I could detect the faint traces of enchantment, but I couldn't analyse it from so far away. At least, not without using magic myself, which would have drawn the attention of a very sharp Headmaster.

"Maybe we have to pull an animal out of it," suggested Harry. "And you're sorted into whichever House's mascot you pull out."

I couldn't help but laugh. That would have been funny, as far-fetched as it was. Ron looked vaguely disturbed. "How am I supposed to pull a lion out of that tiny little thing... Merlin's Beard, I'm going to have to pull out a lion!" He gulped, "no wonder Fred said the Sorting would hurt. It's going to bite my hand off!"

Then the Hat twitched. I blinked. Everybody stared at it even harder now. So it hadn't just been me who saw it. Oh my goodness, there really was something in it, wasn't there? Was Harry right, after all?

Then words began to pour out of a mouth that was just a crack in its cone, varying in pitch and tone.

"It sings," I whispered in surprise to nobody in particular. It was sentient? I hadn't expected such high level of enchantments from such an unremarkable-looking object.

The tune it sung was a dainty little one. But it was charming and funny, and often interrupted by the laughter of the students. When it was finished, the room erupted into applause.

"So we _do_ have to wear it," Hermione sighed.

"It's better than Harry's idea," Ron grinned.

"I don't know," I said. "I think pulling out a lion sounds rather grand, doesn't it?"

Harry grinned. "I think we're about to find out your real name, _Merlin_." He pointed to McGonagall, who was reading a list. Looking closely, it was a name list.

"When I call out your name, you will sit on this chair and put on the Hat. Once it Sorts you, you may proceed to your House table."

Before any of us could respond, she read the first name. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A small, shy-faced girl left the line, timidly walking towards the stool and placed the Hat on her head. It was a bit too big for her, and its brim reached all the way down to her nose. I wondered for a moment how long the Sorting process took. Clearly the Hat was sentient, and must have had some ability to perform Legilimency. But a human's personality could be quite complex, and the Sorting Hat, no matter how enchanted, was still a hat.

"Hufflepuff!" The Hat declared quite immediately.

 _That's rather fast_ , I thought. Was conversation with the Hat even required?

The table on our right clapped and cheered, and Hannah leaped off the chair to run towards them with a big grin on her face.

McGonagall read off another name. "Bones, Susan!"

Bones, Susan was a Hufflepuff as well, and she quickly scurried off to join Hannah at the Hufflepuff table.

The Sorting process went quite fast.

It wasn't long before it was Hermione's turn. "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione happily strolled towards the stool and put the Hat on her head. Moments later, I heard her whine. "But I want to be in Gryffindor!" Oh, so you _could_ talk to the Hat. The duo continued to argue, judging by Hermione's annoyed expression and her furious, but inaudible, whispers. I saw Dumbledore and McGonagall look at a clock in a corner. Their expressions looked ponderous. It seemed cases like this weren't very common.

Ultimately, Hermione must have annoyed the Hat into giving her what she wanted, because it yelled out "Gryffindor!"

Shrieking with elation, Hermione sprinted towards the welcoming arms of the Gryffindor table.

For most, the Sorting was instantaneous. For Malfoy, Draco, the Hat had only touched his hair before it bellowed out, "Slytherin!"

"Called it," Ron scowled, watching the blond boy strut towards the Slytherin table with a smug smirk. _So these are the Slytherins of today_ , I thought. Salazar would be rolling in his grave if he knew the people that sullied his name.

Then for a few, the Hat seemed to deliberate. I could see the lips of those 'difficult' ones move, presumably talking with the Hat. For a Mister "Longbottom, Neville!", he had seemed nearly distraught after three minutes of silent arguing, only for the Hat to shout, "Gryffindor!" at the end of it. I recognised him as the boy who had lost his toad, Trevor, earlier.

And finally, my turn came.

"Pendragon, Merlin!" After reading it aloud, McGonagall took a second look at the sheet of paper in her hands, adjusting her glasses as she did so.

"Don't worry Professor," I waved cheerfully to her. "My name _really is_ Merlin Pendragon." I smirked at Ron and Harry, who were blinking at me profusely. At the Gryffindor table, Hermione's mouth was wide open, and I could tell she was having trouble adjusting with reality as well.

She wasn't the only one. Dumbledore had a raised eyebrow. Many of the students sitting in their tables began to mutter among themselves, pointing at me. _Ah, the Senpais have noticed me_ , I thought. The Japanese Magical community was boringly stiff and prude, but their Muggle culture was as exciting and interesting as they came.

Swinging my legs up, I placed the Sorting Hat on my head and sat on the stool.

I immediately experienced the familiar sensation of a foreign presence entering my mind and had to resist my natural instinct to push them out.

 _"Well what do we have here?"_ The Hat drawled out in my head. I could feel it diving into my psyche. It was not very comfortable.

 _Two can play at that game_ , I thought. If the stupid Hat was going to analyse me, I would do the same to it as well. I sent a Legilimency attack of my own towards the invading entity.

I gasped. A wave of nostalgia hit me with the force of a Hippogriff. The Sorting Hat was not just charms and enchantments. There was a soul in it too. Not a complete one, far from it. But a tiny fragment, not even enough to be considered to be a Horcrux. No, it couldn't even be considered a fragment. Perhaps a shadow, or an afterimage. It was so faint, nearly undetectable, but buried within it was the distinctive personality of its donor.

 _No_ , I corrected myself. _Donors_.

Salazar's wit and sharpness. Godric's bravery and self-righteousness. Rowena's curiosity and creativity. Helga's loyalty and friendliness. They were all in here, and the Hat was the culmination of their combined personalities. I could feel the tears welling up, and immediately quelled the bubbling emotions that threatened to erupt. _They are here, my first teachers._ The man who taught me to use a wand. The lady who taught me how to dance. The playboy who taught me how to woo girls. And the woman who inspired my love for reading. Every single one of them was here.

I wanted to find them. To see them again. But they were buried so deeply, and their essences so intertwined I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. I began to untangle the mess, trying to distinguish between them. If I could separate them, then maybe I could speak to them again.

 _"STOP!"_ the Hat immediately screamed, outraged. _"Do not do that! Or I will break apart, and nothing of them will be left."_

I immediately stopped, realising just what I had been doing. I had been about to destroy the Hat. To unravel the seams and threads that held it together. To completely erode its very being. And with its death, the very last traces of my mentors would vanish as well.

 _They are dead already,_ I reminded myself _. Be thankful that at least some part of them lives on as it is._

I could feel the Hat begin to relax as it realised it was out of harm's way. And then it got very angry.

 _"You are not a mere student."_ This was not one of Salazar's explosions. Nor was it one of Godric's tantrums. This was Rowena, whose anger could only be described as cold and calculating.

I smiled at the memory. The Hat had nothing on her, for the real Rowena was far more terrifying. Even Salazar avoided stepping on her toes if he could. When she had found out about the Basilisk, his response had been to meticulously plan his every move around the castle to minimise the chances of bumping into her. He even ate at different times from the rest of the school.

The Hat didn't scare me one bit. _"And you are not a mere hat,"_ I easily returned.

 _"You have been Sorted already,"_ it accused. _"You cannot be Sorted again. Those are the rules. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin."_

 _"I don't want to go to Slytherin. It has changed. The people there are... annoying."_

I could sense the amusement in the Hat. _"Not all of them,_ " it said wryly. _"I would know. I judged them. And perhaps that is even more reason why you should go. If anyone can restore the honour and pride Salazar's name once brought, it is you, Merlin Ambrosius."_

I frowned. It had a point. I owed it to Salazar, if for no other reason. But I wouldn't be able to observe Harry from Slytherin.

 _"Going to Slytherin would hinder my goals,"_ I told the Hat. _"I am not here to be a student. I am here as an observer, so really, the Housing System is really just a bunch of semantics. You should just let me go where I want."_

 _"It does not matter what you are,"_ the Hat replied. " _All who wear the Hat must be Sorted properly. That is my job."_

 _"I need to go to Gryffindor,"_ I said very seriously. _"I have to go there."_ Actually, I didn't. I needed to go wherever Harry Potter went. But he said he wanted to go to Gryffindor, and that's where people like him tended to go. He seemed upright, honest, and charismatic, if only a little bit shy for now. I was going to bet everything on Gryffindor.

 _"And I need you to go to Slytherin. You have to go there,"_ the Hat coaxed. I had to admit, that was a very Helga-like approach to handle confrontation.

I bit my lip. The Hat was being difficult. _"Let's look at it from another angle, yes? Since I'm going to be in Hogwarts, I might as well do some learning, right? Brush up on my foundations and stuff like that. But you see, I can learn more if my experience this time is different from eight hundred years ago. So, by sorting me into another House, I stand the opportunity to learn more!"_

The Hat seemed to consider this briefly. _"Your end goal is Gryffindor. But the methods you employ are far too Slytherin. And it is the methods that ultimately determine the result. All your scheming to stop me from putting you in Slytherin only makes me want to Sort you there even more now."_

Oh my God, this was driving me insane. It was time to bust out the big guns. _"Hat, what is your purpose?"_

 _"To Sort,"_ it replied back almost robotically.

 _"And what if you suddenly lost the ability to Sort?"_ I asked it.

 _"Then I would have no purpose,"_ it replied, slightly confused.

 _"You would be sad right? You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"_ I asked innocently.

 _"No... I would not."_ The Hat was starting to sound suspicious now.

 _"So hypothetically speaking. If you were to sort someone into a House they didn't want to go to, that person would be angry right? He wouldn't like you. And he'd want to enact revenge, wouldn't he?"_

I could feel the Hat begin to panic. _"You wouldn't dare."_

 _"And say this person that you sorted wrongly just happened to NOT be your ordinary First Year. Instead, he's the Greatest Wizard Ever, and knows exactly how you were made. And because of that, he knows exactly how to tamper with your enchantments to give you the meaningless life you don't want."_

 _"This is blackmail. This reeks of Salazar and his methods. You are threatening centuries of tradition just to get your way."_

 _"I don't care,"_ I told it. _"I'm out of options. You forced my hand. So Sort me into Gryffindor."_

 _"Merlin Ambrosius is from the House of Slytherin. That is something even I cannot change."_

I smiled. _"What about Merlin Pendragon? That is the name that the Professor read, isn't it?"_

The Hat went quiet for a while. _"I suppose... that Merlin Pendragon has accomplished deeds of valor and courage that even Godric would have been proud of. I can make some allowances."_

 _"Good, that's what I want to hear."_ I grinned. _"Now, tell everyone else that."_

I could feel the unwillingness and the resentment harbored by the Hat. There was a short build up.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat shouted with more gusto and force than any other Sorting before it.

Unlike the previous times, there was utter silence at my Sorting. I wondered why. People were just looking at me with a dumb expression. Professor McGonagall made a quick glance to the clock. Had I taken that long?

I looked at the clock myself. I blinked. I'd taken a total of ten minutes. The longest before me was hadn't even crossed four.

 _"Quick, say it again. I don't think they heard you,"_ I quickly told the Hat.

I could sense its exasperation, and it bellowed out, "I said, Gryffindor!"

Slowly, people began to wake up from their stupor. The first claps came from Hermione, before the rest of the Gryffindor table began to clap as well. They even rose to their feet and whooped and cheered.

Before I took off the Hat, I asked it, _"out of curiosity, how would Godric have convinced you to sort him into a different House?"_

The Hat scoffed, _"he would have tried to charm me into doing so."_

I blinked in surprise. _"You're female?"_

The Hat chuckled. _"I'm neither male nor female. But if you knew Godric, then you would also know that it wouldn't really matter to him now, would it? That's how incorrigible he is. Now get lost, I hope I never have to Sort you a third time."_

I burst into laughter as I placed the Hat back onto the stool. That last part had definitely been Salazar. It made me feel warm all over, that even centuries after their passing, a small part of the Founders were still watching over the school.

* * *

"Your name really _is_ Merlin!" Hermione said. "You were telling the truth!"

"I tell the truth quite a lot," I frowned, "yet people always seem surprised."

"It's because you're a born prankster," one of the Weasley twins popped his head between us.

"He's George," the other one said from behind me.

"And he's Fred," the one between me and Hermione said. Then he suddenly looked confused. "Wait, I thought I was Fred, George."

"I thought we're _both_ George today, George."

"Oh that's right. _We're_ George."

I grinned. If the earlier display in the train hadn't already made me fond of them, then I certainly was now.

"You really pulled a good one on us just now-" George said.

"-By locking us in the cabin with those girls!" George finished for him.

"I didn't know an ickle first year like you could do charms like that!"

I wanted tell them to keep quiet, maybe even with a silencing charm, but it was too late. Hermione immediately shouldered her way past George and slammed her palms onto my shoulders.

"You know how to do charms already? But that's underage magic, it's illegal!"

"Uh..." How was I going to explain my way out of this one?

Both Georges grinned at me.

Oh. I got it. This was their revenge.

 _Game on, children._

"Potter, Harry!"

Lucky for me, Harry was called next. Hermione let go of me, but the glare she sent me let me know that the conversation was _far_ from over.

Harry put the Sorting Hat on his head. I expected an immediate 'Gryffindor!', but I knew things were going to be troublesome the moment Harry began to talk to the Hat.

"Another Hatstall?" George murmurred.

"What's a Hatstall?" I asked.

"Somebody who the Sorting Hat takes more than five minutes to Sort. They're quite rare, and I think you're the longest one yet. There hasn't been a Hatstall in over fifteen years," the other George answered.

I frowned. I knew exactly what was going on. That stupid Hat was trying to convert Harry into a Slytherin. I didn't let it have its way earlier, and now it wouldn't let me have mine. That accursed object, I really should have destroyed it.

 _Don't listen to it Harry. You're a Gryffindor. Trust this old man who's even older than the Sorting Hat. I knew Godric Gryffindor personally. You would've loved him!_

And finally, after a painful four minutes, Harry relaxed.

"Gryffindor!" the Hat declared.

 _Looks like you live for another year, Sorting Hat._

"We got the Boy-Who-Lived!" somebody at the table yelled amidst the clapping and the cheering. As Harry made his way over, Hermione and I shifted to make space for him.

"What took you so long?" I asked.

"The Hat wanted to sort me in Slytherin."

 _That stupid Hat._

"He said a part of me would fit very well in Slytherin."

I blinked. Then suddenly everything made sense. The scar. _So it really is a Horcrux_ , I realised. Voldemort was a Slytherin, wasn't he? If the Hat had taken the scar as part of Harry's personality... then it was little wonder it believed Harry was inclined towards the House that produced more Dark Lords than any other.

"Well," I smiled, "it's a good thing he let you choose Gryffindor then."

"You took very long too, so something similar must have happened you too, right?" At seeing me nod, Harry burst into laughter and shook his head. "And I can't believe your name is actually Merlin!"

The rest of the Sorting happened with little drama. Weasley, Ronald was Sorted into Gryffindor with little problem, and George and George had given him a standing ovation.

"Merlin's Beard!" Ron said in disbelief the moment he walked over to us, "It really is Merlin!"

I grinned. "I told you all so, but you guys never believed me."

"Wow, you must have some really big shoes to fill, don't you?" Ron joked.

Another redhead walked over to us. The badge on his robes symbolised that he was a Prefect. He slapped Ron hard on the back. "Well done, Ron! I always knew you'd be able to do it!" Another brother?

Ron smiled back at him. "Thanks, Percy. And uh, congratulations on becoming a Prefect."

"Why, thank you Ron. If you work hard and follow the rules, unlike our dear brothers Fred and George here-"

"George and George," one of Georges corrected.

"We're both George today," supplemented the other.

Percy rolled his eyes at the twins' antics. "If you work hard and follow the rules, then I'm sure Professor McGonagall will make you a Prefect in the fifth year too."

"Really?" Ron said.

"I'm sure of it." Percy smiled.

With Zabini, Blaise, officially becoming a Slytherin, the Sorting was complete.

McGonagall rolled up the scroll and took the Sorting Hat and its stool away. As she did so, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

I blinked.

"He's crazy, isn't he?" Harry asked.

"All the best Wizards are a little bit barmy," I said with a smile.

"Like you?" asked Hermione playfully.

"Yes," I agreed. "Exactly like me."

* * *

 **A/N: So here we get to peer deeper into Merlin's character. Let me know how you feel about the story peeps!**

 **Fav, Follow & Review, fellas!**

 **P.S. Looking for a Beta for this, PM me if interested.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

So. Much. Food.

Our Welcoming Feast was exactly what it sounded like. A feast. And we welcomed it with gusto. The amount of food was ludicrious - fit for a King! A whole school's worth of them! It was unfair, I lamented. There hadn't been so much food during _my_ time here.

Next to me, Ron's and Harry's eyes grew as big as their dinner plates. "This is amazing!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing a steak from a whole pile of them. Within moments, another mysteriously took its place at the top. I wondered how many House Elves Hogwarts had sequestered away in its kitchen. There had to be a whole army of them if they could prepare so much food so quickly.

"Is it goingf to be like thisf eferyvay?" Ron asked, his mouth loaded to the brim with pasta.

"There won't be so much food, but it'll all be equally tasty," a ghost floated by, frightening the three of them.

"You're a ghost!" Hermione said excitedly. "I read that every House has its own ghost. Are you Gryffindor's?"

The Ghost smiled at her, and did a little bow. It was dressed rather pompously, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that he looked slightly familiar. "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

I blinked. Well _that_ explained it. This was the idiot that ended up growing tusks on a woman by accident. I had actually attended his execution, and it had been a rather interesting sight. Over forty hacks to the neck with a blunt axe before they declared him dead.

"I know you!" Ron said once he was done swallowing. "You're Nearly-Headless-Nick!"

Sir Nicholas looked offended, and straightened his clothes. "I told you. I am Sir Nicholas de-"

"Why do they call you that?" Harry asked, interrupting him.

"Because of this," I said. Then I casually bopped him in the back of his head.

Sir Nicholas' head slid off his neck, and would've tumbled onto the ground if there wasn't a tiny strand of skin left connecting it to the rest of him. It was funnier back then. When the executioner had lifted up his head to display to the crowd, and the rest of his body had unexpectedly followed it from the chopping board.

Harry spat out from the cup he was drinking.

Ron looked like he was going to puke, which I sincerely hoped he wouldn't - he'd eaten a lot already.

"That's disgusting!" Hermione screamed.

"Please don't do that again," Sir Nicholas said as his hands placed his head back to its rightful position. "It's quite annoying to see the world upside down all of a sudden. It gives me vertigo."

"You touched him," a boy sitting across us said in surprise, looking at me with wide eyes. It was the boy who lost the toad, Neville, if I remembered correctly. "You're not supposed to be able to touch ghosts."

Suddenly everyone was looking at me again. Oh, right. I'd nearly forgotten that was a thing. Ghosts were supposed to be immaterial, weren't they? Sir Nicholas jolted. "That's right! I felt you touch me! I haven't felt human warmth in centuries!"

"It was the wind," I waved them off dismissively. "A human can't touch ghosts. Everyone knows _that_." Well I could, actually. But that was more the Fae part of me touching him. I stuck my hand into him, passing through him like he wasn't there at all. Repressing my Fairy attributes was something I had to do consciously. "See? I can't touch him!" I said, waving my arm around Sir Nicholas' body.

"But-" Neville wanted say more, but I stuffed a cream puff into his open mouth before he could continue speaking.

"Shhhh," I said as politely as I could, "no talking while your mouth is full, okay?"

He looked terrified of me. He nodded his head and began to chew.

"Now off you go, Sir Nicholas," I shooed the ghost away, "plenty of other First Years you need to introduce yourself to."

"You're right!" And with that, the ghost floated away.

The rest looked at me skeptically, but I picked up a grilled chicken leg and began to eat. That little act reminded them of the feast, and soon all they could focus on was the food. Still, I couldn't help but feel that I was being watched.

Flamel was right. Laying low was going to be _really_ _difficult_.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore watched his children eat. Not really having a real family of own, Hogwarts had become his family. The students were his children, the Professors his younger siblings. He was the Headmaster, and they were all his responsibility.

His gaze flew naturally to the one thing he had been looking forward to for nearly a decade. A young black-haired boy with round-rim glasses. His messy long hair hid it, but there was bound to be a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter.

The Boy-Who-Lived had finally come home. He hated putting Harry with his Muggle family. The boy should've been surrounded by those who loved him, people who appreciated the sacrifice he made to save Magical Britain. But with Sirius in Azkaban, the Dursleys had been the next legal choice to raise him.

They mistreated Harry, Dumbledore knew. But he had no other choice. It was nearly seven years ago, when he'd finally finished preparing a case to transfer custody of Harry back to Magical Society for the Wizengamot. But then he had heard the most disturbing of rumours.

Whispers that known Death Eaters in Azkaban were suffering from nightmares, their Dark Marks burning as thoughts not their own invaded their minds. The implications were devastating. Voldemort was not dead, and his return was inevitable. He did not know how a child once so bright could have turned so dark and even till today, Dumbledore could not bring himself to imagine the depths of depravity Tom Riddle had sunk into.

And then he had a dilemma. The return of Harry Potter would be made public. Even if it was held to secrecy, there were enough former Death Eaters (under the Imperius or not), that true supporters of Voldemort would know about it. Harry Potter was still a young and defenseless child. He could not, in good conscience, send him into a society where a significant portion wanted him dead. The Dursleys kept him underneath a staircase. But at least they kept him alive.

And so he had chosen the lesser of two evils. But it would not matter for long, because the child of James Potter and Lily Evans had finally returned into the Magical World. He would learn to defend himself. He would learn of his heritage. And he would learn of the Prophecy when he was ready.

It was Dumbledore's job to prepare him for it. The boy had a lived a hard life, and it would only get harder from here. _But at the very least_ , Dumbledore smiled as he watched Harry laugh and joke with those around him, _he will have friends with him every step of the way now._

Dumbledore had been anticipating this moment for years. He would have been perfectly content watching Harry the whole evening.

Until that strange white-haired Hatstall knocked off Nearly-Headless-Nick's head with a slap of his hand. Immediately, Dumbledore sharpened his focus.

Merlin Pendragon.

A boy with a name like that was destined to do great things. _Or terrible deeds_ , a voice in his mind whispered.

He looked around. None of the other Professors had seen his little feat.

Dumbledore frowned. The boy had touched a ghost. To the ignorant, that would have been impossible. He watched with interest as Merlin stuck his hand into Nearly-Headless-Nick's body again, but this time it passed through, and he waved it around as he tried to convince his fellow students they were mistaken.

So he was aware of his ability, Dumbledore concluded, and even knew how to control it.

Terrifying.

Because Dumbledore knew how to touch ghosts, even if he himself could not do it. Ghosts were paradoxes. Many people thought that ghosts hovered at the border of Life and Death.

They could not be more wrong. Because ghosts were Life itself. A burning desire. A vengeful hatred. A last regret. The very emotions that defined Life could stick with a soul even after it left its body. And when it arrived on Death's doorstep, those emotions would continue to fester, becoming an inferno that gave the soul lucidity and thought.

It was rare, but every once in a while, a dead soul could be as indistinguishable as a living one. And Death would sneer at it, turning it away and banishing it back to the realm of the living until it had calmed down and accepted its demise.

Cases like those were rare. Few people had the will and the determination to reject Death so vehemently while alive. Even fewer could do it despite being dead.

Their bodies were dead, but their souls lived on. They could not affect Life, because their physical anchors no longer existed, but that did not mean they were dead. They were forces of Life so strong they broke the rules of the world.

Exceptions.

Miracles.

Cursed.

And that was why Dumbledore welcomed them in Hogwarts, even though they caused all kinds of trouble for the staff and students. They deserved a home, at the very least, for the tenacity they showed. They were proof of human potential, that even Death itself could not tame humanity. They were, by all sense of the word, _untouchable_.

Except young Merlin had done just that.

Ghosts occupied another plane of existence. That was why the rules didn't apply to them. But at the same time, that meant they could not interact with reality. Only beings that existed in their reality, like other ghosts, could interact with them. But it was clear that Merlin was _real_. Dumbledore saw him eat. Dumbledore saw him touch and carry things. And Dumbledore could feel his presence.

Merlin was _here_ , and very much alive. But... if Merlin could touch a ghost, it meant that he could exist in their plane of existence as well. And the only way to do that... Dumbledore swallowed... was to _cheat Death_.

"Minerva," he said quietly, and his Deputy Headmistress was by his side immediately. "That boy, Merlin. He wasn't in the register last month." Dumbledore always made it a point to read through the names of enrolling students before they actually came. He would've remembered if a name as eye-catching as "Merlin Pendragon" was there.

Minerva shook her head. "No, he wasn't. He was added in at the last minute. At the request of the Ministry."

The Ministry? "This came from the top?" he asked.

Minerva nodded.

He stroked his beard, deep in thought. If Merlin had come with the backing of the Ministry... then he probably wasn't a threat. But his existence itself was already fascinating, and it was from a purely intellectual curiosity that Dumbledore wanted to find out more about him.

The first Hatstall in over a decade, a record setter at that. He wished the Founders hadn't charmed the Hat to confidentiality. He knew Merlin had made it upset, and he dearly wanted to know what it was that had made Merlin so hard to Sort.

Dumbledore finally started to eat. It was time for him to write to a few old friends again.

* * *

I'd made a lot of stupid mistakes in my very long life.

And my most recent one had to rank quite closely to the top.

Here's a lesson for everyone to learn. Never, _never_ , never-ever, wave to an ex-girlfriend across a hall filled with loud and noisy children. Especially when she's a ghost and you're alive.

Helena Ravenclaw's face went white, as if she'd seen a ghost. Which was ironic, because _she_ was the ghost, and she was looking at me, a healthy human boy. She opened her mouth, and looked like she was going to scream. I brought my finger to my lips, and gently tugged on the collar of my shirt.

It was a signal when we were both students here, which basically meant, _'let's go snog in the next private place we find'_.

"Percy, where's the nearest toilet?" I asked the Prefect, interrupting his discussion with the rest of the First Years about their families.

He gave me a set of directions I already knew, and I quickly left.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Helena excuse herself from the Ravenclaw's table. Her pale and translucent form followed me from a distance.

I turned a bend, turning to a chunk of the wall with misaligned bricks exposed. What was the code again?

"Upper left, left, left, right, bottom, bottom right, top," Helena's soft voice whispered into my ear.

I sent a jolt of magic into those bricks in that exact order. At the last brick, instead of rebounding, my finger went right through and I walked through the wall, Helena following right behind.

Finally alone, I could finally get a closer look at her.

She looked exactly the same as when we had graduated. Except now she was kind of see-through, which she hadn't been last time.

"It's you..." she said, looking at me up and down. "You're _you_."

"Yes," I agreed. "I am me. That has never been in question."

"You look like a First Year!" she exclaimed.

"I _am_ a First Year," I pointed out. Her black hair was still in its curly locks, and they flew all over the place as she shook her head.

"That's not what I meant. You actually made a De-aging Potion, didn't you? I can't believe you actually succeeded! I thought you weren't being serious!"

I blinked, wondering how she knew about it. Then I recalled that I first came up with the idea for a De-aging Potion together with Helena here, back in our last year. She still remembered, which was kind of surprising. "I am always serious," I said, trying to keep a straight face.

Helena laughed. Then her smile dropped, and she had a wistful expression on her face. "I shouldn't have left you. I should've just stayed here with you in England. Europe was a bad idea."

"Yes," I said wryly, gesturing towards her... ghastly form, "I can see that. So, who off-ed you?"

"The Baron," Helena said, nonplussed. "Apparently, he liked me. And when he found out we broke up, he followed me to Europe. I told him no. He stabbed me afterwards."

The Baron. "I have no idea who that is."

"You don't remember?" Helena asked. "He was your housemate!"

I shook my head. "I only remember the pretty ones." I flashed a charming grin at her.

She rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. "I would hug you just for saying that, but..." she shrugged, "that wouldn't work for obvious reasons."

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. I could feel her stiffening at my touch. She felt cold. There was a fragile hollowness to her body, like if I squeezed too hard she would pop like a balloon.

"You can touch ghosts," she murmured in disbelief, snuggling her chin into my shoulder.

I smiled. "Only the pretty ones."

We stood there like that for a long time. I could only imagine the loneliness she felt the past few centuries. All alone, doomed to haunt a place where she once had countless friends. For most of my mortal life, I thought about her a lot, wondering what had happened and why nobody knew her fate. But in time, my memories of her, like of so many other things, were shelved away in my mind. She... she wasn't waiting for me, was she?

"You know," she whispered into my ear. It felt like a chilly breeze, and it took all my willpower not to flinch at her freezing voice. "I think we should get back together."

I immediately released the hug, wondering if I'd misheard her.

"We'll have to talk and iron out some of the issues in our relationship," she continued saying as she walked towards me. I immediately backtracked, until I felt the wall press up against my spine. She kept on stalking forward, like a predator cornering a prey, until her pale but beautiful, and also _translucent_ , face was inches away from mine.

"You're dead," I reminded her. Just in case she forgot. Old age made people forget all sorts of important things.

"Yes," she frowned ponderously. "We'll definitely have to talk about _that_." Then I realized she was actually being serious.

"You don't have a physical body," I said. "You won't be able to satisfy my needs."

"Please," Helena smirked. "You can touch me anywhere you want, anyway you like. I know some men like it _cold_."

"I am not one of those men." And how did Helena even know that? Did she meet one? "And besides, necrophilia is against the law."

Helena leaned over, her lips hovering mere milimeters in front of mine. I could actually see down her dress, which was probably her intention in the first place. It didn't affect me much, since she's a ghost... and Helena's breasts weren't very pronounced to begin with anyway.

"You know..." she whispered coyly, "the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest."

"You're in a seventeen year old's body," I said. I was grasping at straws here. Things were getting uncomfortable _fast_ , and every part of my body was searching for an avenue of escape. I had to get out quickly, because I was actually starting to _enjoy_ this.

"That didn't stop you last time." _Which was eight hundred years ago_ , I mentally reminded her. "And you're in your eleven-year-old form."

"This is temporary."

"Good." She licked her lips. "I wouldn't like my future partner to be shorter than me."

She was set, wasn't she? Was this what centuries of damnation and regret did to you? Her body was blocking the exit, and there was little I could do. It wasn't like I could walk through-

Oh right. I _could_ just walk through her. I was right, old age really _did_ make people forget all sorts of important things.

"Look!" I pointed behind her. "The Baron!" I just needed a distraction, someone guaranteed to draw a reaction from her. Her murderer was the first name to pop into my mind.

"That git!" she cursed as she turned. "Always getting in my way!"

Wow, she actually bought it. I suppressed the non-human aspects of me, and ran right through Helena, making a dash for the exit.

"Merlin!" she screamed, but it was too late, and I was already out on the other side of the magical wall.

I was panting hard as I walked briskly towards the Great Hall.

Just my luck. Of all the girls in the school, it just had to be the _dead_ one.

* * *

By the time Dumbledore finished his closing speech, I had already prepared a To-Do list.

1\. Stay close to Harry Potter.

2\. Stay far from Helena Ravenclaw

3\. Explore the Forbidden Forest

4\. Experience a very painful death at the third-floor hallway Dumbledore mentioned.

Honestly, it was like Dumbledore _wanted_ his students to hurt themselves. Though at the very least, Hogwarts wasn't going to be as dry as I thought.

There were probably more secrets at Hogwarts waiting to be uncovered, but I had a whole school year to burn.

There were only so many rules I could break, and so many people I could annoy before things got boring. I sighed. My impulse control had to be in top shape if I didn't want to die of boredom - I was going to have to ration my tomfoolery over the year.

"The staircases," Harry suddenly stopped moving, causing Ron and Hermione to bump into him. "They're moving."

"They're called escalators," I said automatically, my mind still planning out my schedule for the semester ahead.

"What's an escalator?" Ron asked.

"It's a Muggle invention, a staircase with moving steps" Hermione explained. "But definitely not _that_ ," she said while pointing in front of us.

Finally, I looked up. Then I realized we were all standing in a group in front of a stairwell, while one of the staircases floated down from above.

"That just seems over-doing it," Hermione crossed her arms. "Why not just build a normal staircase? Then we wouldn't have to wait."

"Then we'd all have to walk four flights of stairs instead of one," said Perfect-Prefect-Percy, who was leading us to the Gryffindor dormitories. "This saves effort."

" _Magic_ escalator," Harry said very seriously.

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to tell him off. But like me, she very quickly realised that he wasn't actually wrong.

I tried to hide my smile. If I remembered correctly, the only reason there were floating staircases was because the Founders planned the budget poorly and couldn't afford to build complete stairwells.

They were all brilliant wizards and witches, but they were pretty much hopeless at everything else that wasn't their speciality.

There was a clunking sound, and the steps docked with the landing. Following Percy's confident lead, the First Years gingerly walked onto it.

And so up the magical escalator we went.

* * *

I could tell the children were confused. The hallways and corridors of Hogwarts had that kind of effect of first-timers. We ducked through tapestries to enter hidden passages, and at one point we even walked backwards only to discover a completely new walkway. Hogwarts was a maze to them, and I could see their eleven-year-old minds completely mystified as they tried to remember the directions.

Their confusion only worsened when a bunch of stick floating in the air suddenly started flinging themselves at Percy.

"Peeves," Percy smiled weakly at us, "a poltergeist. Quite annoying." Then he walked towards the mid-air bundle. "Peeves!" he shouted, "show yourself!"

The poltergeist's response was to blow a raspberry at him.

"I'm going to tell the Baron!"

My ears perked up. No way.

"Who's the Baron?" I asked.

"The Slytherin ghost. He's very old. They say he was in the very first few batches of Hogwarts students. He keeps to himself mostly though." Percy replied while trying to dodge Peeves' assault.

I groaned. There was another one, as if Helena hadn't been enough. But what a cruel twist of fate, for the both of them to end up haunting the same place.

Finally, Percy managed to shoo off the ghost. A little while later, we stopped in front of a large painting. Or rather, a painting of a large woman.

"Password?" the woman asked.

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied immediately.

The fat lady seemed satisfied, and suddenly the painting swung outwards, revealing a narrow passageway behind it.

This, I realised, was the first time I was entering the Gryffindor dormitories. I'd never gotten the chance to as a student the first time round. Hopefully... it was communal.

* * *

The silence of the night was only broken by the ruffle of feathers and the hooting of owls. It kind of smelled in here, too. I was at the top of the West Tower, in the Owlery. It was very late, but I couldn't bring myself to go to sleep. And it felt really weird, sleeping in a room with eleven year old boys when I was nearly eighty times their age. My moral compass wasn't exactly north-facing, but that was too creepy even for me.

On a side note, Ron had a pet Rat named Scabbers which, unbeknownst to him, was an Animagus in disguise. At least, I don't think he knew. Sleeping in the same room as _that_ would just be even creepier.

From my pocket, I pulled out a tiny hand mirror.

"Mirror mirror in my hand, show me a man who is proud to be bland," I chanted as I poured magic into it.

My reflection was suddenly replaced with the image of Nicholas Flamel, who looked oddly annoyed for some reason.

"Merlin," Nicholas' irritated voice broke through the polished surface, "I already told you there isn't an activation phrase. You only need to channel your magic into it."

"Whoops," I lied, " I completely forgot."

"No you didn't," Nicholas said flatly. "But never mind that, how is Hogwarts?"

"Fun," I immediately replied. "I made friends with Harry Potter. And a few other people. Oh! And I met an old friend, too!"

Nicholas blinked. "You didn't use magic to con him into becoming your friend, did you? I feel obligated to remind you that the Imperius Curse is technically illegal."

"Of course I didn't!" I exclaimed, aghast. "I actually do have social skills, you know? Making friends is easy!"

Nicholas rolled his eyes, clearly not believing me. He opened his mouth to say something, but his jaw simply remained hanging there as no words came out. He blinked again.

"Merlin."

"Yes, Nicholas?"

"Did you say you met an old friend?"

"Yes, Nicholas."

"How... how old are we talking about here?"

"Mmmm. Eight centuries?" If it was even possible, his jaw dropped even lower. "It's Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw! She was classmate back when I was a student, and we went out for a bit. It was kind of awkward seeing her."

"Kind of awkward? Merlin! What about Council's Statute? She can't know that you're alive! Our identities have to be kept a secret!" Nicholas sounded upset. Like it was the end of the world. Which really shouldn't have scared him so much, considering the number of times that we've actually saved the world.

"She won't tell a soul, I promise," I reassured him.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked with a hint of doubt.

"She's got the hots for me. And she's got enough brains to know that if she ever reveals my identity, I'll leave and she'll never be able to rekindle our relationship again. And I might have to alter her memories after that. So basically she knows to keep it a secret," I said confidently.

Nicholas looked deep in thought. "Wait," he looked up. "If she was your classmate, how's she even alive? If she's immortal, we would've known, wouldn't we?"

"Oh, she's a ghost," I revealed casually.

Nicholas' eye twitched. Then he brought his arms up in defeat and let out a big sigh. "Only you, Merlin. Only you can somehow make a ghost become infatuated with you."

"It's my talent," I smiled brightly.

"Let's... talk about something else. Did you find anything interesting about Harry Potter?" Nicholas asked.

"Yeah, he's a Horcrux for that Voldemort dude," I said.

"That... is pretty bad," Nicholas responded. "I don't suppose you know how to remove it without killing him?"

I shook my head. Voldemort's soul was too entwined with Harry's.

"I suppose that's the price to pay if you want to take on the Killing Curse and walk away. The boy still has to die _some_ _day_." He wasn't wrong. Technically, everybody had to die sooner or later. It was just some people, like me, would die _way later_. And if my suspicions were right, so would Voldemort.

"Nicholas. Do you not understand? It means that Voldemort might actually still be alive. He might not have a body, but his soul is still anchored to the world. That's immortality, albeit a crude and primitive form."

"No," Nicholas said sternly. "He's a Dark Lord. The Council doesn't take in Dark Lords, even if he's immortal."

"No, we don't. But we do _kill_ them."

It took a moment for Nicholas to realise what I was implying. "You can't just kill the boy, Merlin. He's _eleven_."

"Not now, of course. But it is an inevitability. I think we need to actually look into this. This might not be the only Horcrux Voldemort has. Help me inform the Council. We should stop this Voldemort fellow before he makes a complete return. Heaven knows we have enough unkillable Dark Lords already."

My senses tingled. _An intrusion_.

"Merlin, you can't just-"

I turned off the mirror and waited.

"Hello, Headmaster," I greeted politely.

A bearded face appeared at the stairwell. I'd cut the call before he could notice anything.

"Good evening, young Merlin." Dumbledore's full body came into view.

I looked outside the window. The Moon was already beginning its descent.

"It's technically morning already."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Ah. My mistake. Good morning then, Merlin."

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore."

"Are you aware there exists a curfew for students at night?"

I nodded. Percy had said something about 'not leaving your rooms once it's bedtime', but I was going to take that rule as seriously as the 'the Forbidden Forest is forbidden' one. "I'm can't sleep. So I decided to talk a walk."

Dumbledore looked around in amusement. "In the Owlery."

I shrugged. "It's nice here. I thought I wouldn't be disturbed in here."

Dumbledore chuckled. "There are better places in the castle if you want privacy."

"Like?"

"They wouldn't be very private if I just told you about them, would they?"

I laughed. He had a point. Hogwarts had many secrets. Every Founder had one. There was Salazar's Chamber of Secrets. There was Rowena's Room of Requirement. And those were the only ones I knew. Godric and Helga probably had their own little hideaways stashed somewhere around the castle as well. I wonder if Dumbledore knew about them. Maybe I should try to look for them.

"How was your first day in Hogwarts, Merlin?" Dumbledore asked.

"Exciting," I replied, thinking about my _actual_ first day eight hundred years ago. "It's like stepping into a new world."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed warmly, "Hogwarts does seem to have that effect, doesn't it?"

"You can skip the build up," I said. "Just ask the questions you really want to ask."

For a while Dumbledore kept quiet. "The Sorting Hat. It was choosing between Slytherin and Gryffindor, wasn't it?" he asked.

"No," I told him honestly. "It already chose Slytherin. But I wanted Gryffindor."

"Can I ask why?"

I grinned at him. "Because all the best wizards and witches go to Gryffindor."

"That's not true. Merlin - the _original_ Merlin I mean - went to Slytherin," Dumbledore said. "And many would say that he was the greatest wizard ever born."

"Funny. Many say that about _you_ , Professor Dumbledore. And you're a Gryffindor."

"You flatter me," the Headmaster said. "I will tell you a secret," he added playfully.

He leaned towards me and whispered, "the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin during my Sorting too."

"And why didn't it?" I asked curiously.

"I threatened to temper with its enchantments until it gave me what I wanted" Dumbledore replied mischievously.

I had to suppress my laughter. I thought about my own conversation with the Hat, and decided to borrow its words.

"That's not a very Gryffindor thing to do," I said. "In fact, that's the Slytherin's way."

"Funny," Dumbledore replied with the ghost of a smile. "The Hat told me the same thing then."

"And yet you chose Gryffindor. Why so stubborn?"

"Because back then, all the _worst_ witches and wizards came from Gryffindor."

His words made me involuntarily recall the Hat's words. _'If anyone can restore the honour and pride Salazar's name once brought, it is you.'_

I couldn't help but mutter a silent apology to my mentor. But just because I wasn't in Slytherin didn't mean I couldn't change it for the better. It would be hard, but I would do it nonetheless.

Because I'm freaking Merlin Ambrosius.

"It is late," Dumbledore said, turning around to leave. "Do try to rest before your first lesson begins, Merlin. The Professors here all have high standards, some having higher than the others."

"I will try." Keyword being _try_.

"Oh. And Mister Filch, the caretaker, has made it his life's dream to catch students flouting the rules. I would avoid him if I were you."

"I understand. Good morning, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Good morning to you too, Merlin."

As he vanished down the stairs, I only had one thought.

 _Albus Dumbledore would be an excellent addition to the Council._

* * *

 **A/N: Review? Do you like this fic more light-hearted? Or do you want it to have a more serious tone?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Breakfast was a delicious, but awkward affair.

 _Bacon, sausage, and ham._

 _What a lucky man I am._

 _That rhymes!_

I savoured the taste of grilled meat in my mouth. It would have been the perfect moment if everybody wasn't glaring at me.

Helena was watching me from afar, her face alternating between irritation and adoration. I was probably going to have to deal with her at some point, but I just couldn't be bothered to right now.

Dumbledore, from his throne on the Professors' Table, had his eyes on me well, though his gaze seemed more curious than anything else.

Finally, the seething looks from every First Year Gryffindor on the table.

"Merlin, where were you last night?" Ron asked.

"We all woke up at some point in the night." Another boy - Seamus, I think he was called - frowned. "And all of us noticed your bed was empty."

"Merlin, we could lose points for that!" Hermione exclaimed.

I swallowed the food in my mouth. "I was sleeping."

"No you weren't," Harry said. "We all know you weren't in the dormitory. We all left together for breakfast. You weren't with us. You just walked in five minutes ago!"

"I was sleepwalking," I fibbed, taking another helping of bacon.

"Merlin, it's not entirely safe to wander about Hogwarts by yourself," Neville said timidly. "You heard what Dumbledore said yesterday night, didn't you?"

"Ah, yes. A most painful death. Where was it again? The third floor? Who's up for an expedition later?"

"You're hopeless," Ron groaned. "You're going to get all of us into trouble."

What a bunch of goody-goody-two-shoes. Where was their sense of adventure? Hogwarts was a treasure trove of mysteries and delights! It would be a shame to miss out on all that for something as trivial as _sleep_.

"If it makes you all feel better, I spoke to Professor Dumbledore last night. It was fun," I told them.

They blinked as one.

"And he didn't say you were in trouble?" Nevillle asked.

"I don't think so," I said.

"You know," Ron admitted, "That actually _does_ make me feel better."

* * *

Lessons were _so boringggggggggggggggggg._

With a capital B. And a capital O. and a capital R. And a capital _everything._

BORING.

The subjects hadn't changed since my time, and I was surprised to see that one of the Professors hadn't either.

Professor Binns, easily the most boring person to have ever existed, was still teaching History of Magic. Except now he was a ghost, which made him even more boring, if that was even possible. Any worries that he would recognise me flew out the window when we clambered to class five minutes late and Binns was already at the board, teaching to a non-existent class. I was going to assume skiving off his lessons was going to be just as easy to do as when he was still alive.

Herbology was kind of okay, though it would be a while before we could even got to _see_ the more interesting plants. I wonder if they had that one flower—I forgot its name—that sucked in people like a vacuum when they tried to sniff it. That was the most amazing prank on Nicholas I'd pulled yet.

If only he could get over the fact that I'd somehow "ruined his wedding".

Defense Against the Dark Arts was fairly interesting. At least the way they seemed to teach it was novel to me. Professor Quirrell was as confident as a grapefruit, but I'd long since seen through his ruse. He was a crafty one. He would keep filling our minds with stories about dark magic until we learned to recognize that particularly foul piece of energy residing in his turban. A very hands-on approach, which made me respect the man greatly.

By the time it was our first Transfiguration lesson, I was itching to spice things up.

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall." Hermione apologised as she led a gaggle of tardy Gryffindors into the room. "We were lost, and Peeves gave us the wrong directions."

McGonagall looked neither displeased nor amused. In her usual stern tone, she accepted the explanation. "Very well. I will let it slide this time, only because this is your first lesson. I do expect you all to come on time for future lessons, as well as to know _not_ to ask Peeves for anything. You may go to your seats."

I should probably meet this Peeves ghost, I thought. He seemed like a rather likable fellow.

They shuffled into their seats, but Ron froze when he saw me already in mine. "Merlin! How long have you been here?"

Professor McGonagall answered for me. "Merlin, like any good student, came here _on time_. Perhaps next time you should follow _him_ , instead of Peeves.

I gave them a big charming smile. Hermione looked annoyed. "How did you know the directions? You always arrive the earliest even though you're the last one to leave!"

I shrugged. "Peeves told me."

There twitch on McGonagall's lips when the students could only splutter out words in confusion and disbelief. _Is that a smile?_ She rapped her knuckles on the board. "Come, we are already behind schedule. I will start now."

She got into a little lecture on Transfiguration, with a live demonstration of turning her desk into a pig and back into a desk again. Everybody was impressed and taking down notes (except me, of course) until McGonagall gave us a matchstick each.

"Take out your wands, everybody. You will now try to turn this matchstick into a needle. There are no incantations, no specific wand movements. It will take some time, so be patient." There was some excitement. This was the first time we would actually be using our wands. Professor Flitwick, our Charms Professor (who wasn't as charming as I thought he would be), had made our first few lessons purely theoretical.

And so everybody started pointing their fancy wooden sticks at their matchsticks and glaring at them, hoping _something_ would happen.

"Merlin," McGonagall stopped in front of me. "Why aren't you trying? Where's your wand?"

"At home." Locked in a secure vault. I hadn't needed to use my wand in over a decade, and I sure wasn't going to break that streak for something as simple as basic Transfiguration.

She looked angry. "You came to Hogwarts to learn magic. Without your _wand_."

"Wandless magic," I said very seriously. "And besides, I can always just use my finger. Technically speaking, the structural breakdown for my finger does fit the requirements for a wand. There's organic tissue making up the exterior, and the blood and bones on the inside can fill the position of a core fairly well."

For a moment, she was speechless. I smiled at her. I was the great Merlin - I was never wrong. Wand-making was something I studied quite hard for. Normally, human flesh and bone wasn't potent enough to act as a wand, but like I said before, I was anything but _normal_.

By now, everybody was staring at us.

Her lips tilted downwards in a deep frown. She was going to scold me, wasn't she? I needed to distract her so I could prove my point.

I sent a silent and weak _Incendio_ towards the table in front of me, and poor Neville screamed in fright when his matchstick suddenly caught on fire.

McGonagall turned, and immediately conjured some water to extinguish it.

"Professor McGonagall." I tried to fake as much innocence as possible. "I think I messed up my Transfiguration."

She turned, obviously ready to berate me. Then she blinked. Once, twice, her eyelids fluttered as she stared on my table.

She wasn't the only one.

"Oi, Merlin," Ron, who was sitting next to me, nudged me on the shoulder. "Is that a bloody palace?"

"Yes," I said very gravely. "I was picturing a needle, but it ended up like that instead." It was very pretty though. A large and magnificent chateau, with sprawling open fields and fountains that actually spurted out water. An animated Transfiguration, take that, McGonagall.

"That's Beauxbatons," McGonagall said in disbelief. "You've transfigured your matchstick into Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

Beauxbatons? No wonder it looked so pretty and familiar.

"You went to Beauxbatons?" Hermione asked. "But that's in France!"

"Uh no," I lied. "Never been there in my life."

McGonagall glared at me. "Mister Pendragon. I don't appreciate tomfoolery and disruptions in my classes. I don't care how talented you are, but I do expect professionalism and seriousness at all times."

Oh no, she was one of _those_ types. The strict teachers that didn't know fun even if it slapped them on the face. Like Rowena. Why was she in Gryffindor? She's clearly the reincarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw!

"But I don't need to bring a wand, right?" I asked. "Because going back home to get it and all will be quite troublesome."

Her glare intensified. "One day, Mister Pendragon, when you miscast and your finger explodes instead of your wand, I will be there to say 'I told you so'."

I shrugged. "Sure." Because Nicholas Flamel was always telling me the same thing whenever I annoyed him, but not once had he managed to say those four words.

"The rest of you, get back to trying. Merlin, I'll come up with more difficult exercises for your next lesson. For now, don't distract the rest."

I grinned. At least things weren't going to be boring for _this_ class.

* * *

It was official. Hermione hated me. She absolutely loathed me to the core.

"It's not fair!" she complained—loudly—to Ron and Harry. "He's doing all this advanced magic and still acting so immature! It's like he's not even trying. I hate people like that, they make me feel stupid when I try my best."

"But Hermione, you actually managed to turn your matchstick into a needle," Harry pointed out.

"Unlike _the rest of us_ ," Ron grumbled.

"It wasn't a real needle," she continued, "there was a bit wood at the bottom. And did you even _see_ what he was doing at the end of the class? He created a miniature ocean on his table and had a re-enactment of a World War Two naval battle!"

" _He_ ," I chimed in at that moment, "can also hear the three of you very well."

"Merlin," Hermione turned to face me, her face bordering between curiosity and irritation. "How come you know all of this stuff already? Have you been breaking the law by practicing underage magic?"

"Not to mention you're doing it _wandlessly_ ," Harry added.

"And _silently_ ," and now Ron, too.

I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm Merlin."

The three of them rolled their eyes, but couldn't press on since we'd reached our destination.

The Potions classroom, which was underground and near the basement, didn't have a very pleasant atmosphere.

"My brothers say that Snape is a git. He's a Slytherin, so he hates Gryffindors and he's always taking points away from us for the pettiest of reasons," Ron whispered.

Hermione looked aghast. "Ron! You can't say that about the Professors! Hogwarts is the premier magic school, I'm sure that all the Professors are reasonable and good."

Ron didn't look convinced.

Neither did Harry. "You know, I've caught him glaring at me several times during meals," he said. "I don't think he likes me."

We had all arrived in the classroom, but Severus Snape was no where to be seen, so Hermione whispered back furiously, "Harry, it's our first lesson. How can he not like you if he's never met you before?"

He shrugged. "Lots of people seem to have their own impression of me even if they've never met me before."

"That's the price of being famous, I guess," Ron sighed.

The doors slammed open and Severus Snape marched in, his robes billowing behind him. He started reading out names, and the students he called began to announce their attendance.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."

The Slytherins sniggered. The Gryffindors tried to applause, but a quick glare from Snape shut them down. I couldn't tell if I was going to like or hate Severus Snape yet.

"And yes, our other problem child. Merlin Pendragon."

"Right here, Professor." I waved to him.

His eyes flickered up. "The Headmaster speaks highly of you."

I beamed.

"Professor McGonagall, however, does not. I do not tolerate cheek and disruptions in my lessons, Merlin. You can be Cornelius Fudge but you will still have to sit down and shut up unless I give you permission to speak. Is that clear?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir." A small nod of approval.

I'd met men like Snape before. Dealing with him was easy. I just needed to turn off my brain and end all my sentences with 'sir'. But I still hadn't decided if I liked him.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked extremely lost. So did Ron. And pretty much the rest of the class. Only Hermione had her hand raised in the air, and she gave off a slightly satisfied smirk when she saw she was the only one who knew the answer.

"I don't know... sir."

Snape sneered, and then looked to the rest of the class, his eyes landing on Hermione briefly before he moved on. I could see her shoulder slump from the snub.

"Pendragon! How about you? Do you know the answer?"

Of course I did. I was Merlin.

"You get a potion, sir."

Somebody dared to giggle. Snape glared at them and the noise ceased immediately.

"What... kind of potion?" Snape asked, almost grounding his teeth.

"Tears of Aurora, sir."

Hermione's smirk grew bigger, and she straightened her arm into the air again. Did... I get it wrong?

Was Princess Aurora Sleeping Beauty? Or was it Ariel?

Snape blinked. Very slowly, his scowl was replaced with veiled surprise. "Pendragon. Where did you learn that name?"

"I... don't remember," I said honestly. I hadn't studied in centuries, how was I supposed to remember each and every book that I read?

"Five points to Gryffindor for Merlin's extensive reading," Snape said, almost reluctantly.

Hermione immediately stood up. "Sir! I thought it was the Draught of the Living Death!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for speaking without permission, Miss Granger," Snape immediately leaped at the opportunity. "And for your information, Miss Granger, they are the same thing. Tears of Aurora was the name the creator gave his sleeping potion. About two hundred years ago, it was renamed to Draught of the Living Death."

Hermione raised her hand again. When Snape nodded, she asked, "who... created the potion, sir?"

Snape made a soft scoff and his gaze caught mine. "Why, it was none other than the original Merlin, of course."

Oh. So that's how I knew.

"Potter!"

Harry tensed up again, not having expected to be called a second time.

"Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

The Boy-who-lived shrugged, and Hermione took the chance to shoot her hand into the air again, this time fidgeting in her seat to attract Snape's attention.

"Merlin?" Her face fell.

"In my pocket, sir," I said, pulling out polished stone.

This time the whole class burst into laughter. Snape looked furious, but a sharp glint in his eye stopped him from exploding and he steadily walked towards me, snatching the stone from my palm.

After studying it intently, he seemed almost impressed. "Five points to Gryffindor for Merlin's preparedness." He held up the object for the rest of the class to see. "This is a bezoar. It is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons."

Hermione turned around to face me, her expression locked in angry disbelief. What? She expected me to walk around without carrying a universal antidote? Well next time she got poisoned, I wouldn't saving _her_ life.

"Merlin!"

Harry let out an audible sigh of relief when he realised Snape wouldn't be calling him for a third time.

"What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Uh... was this some kind of trick question? I looked around. Even Hermione looked baffled.

"They're... the same?" I ventured. "Aren't they both aconite, sir?"

For the first time I'd seen, Snape smiled. It was very slight, almost unnoticeable, but the corners of his lips had stretched upwards when he said the next words. "Good. Perhaps this class will not be filled with dunderheads like all my previous ones. Merlin, I have high expectations of you. If only," he sighed, "if only you were a Slytherin. I'd make you a Prefect right here and now."

Really? He could do that? But Prefects, from what I'd seen, were all uppity, rule-abiding, stiff people. I didn't want that hanging over my head.

There was a growl, and I could see Hermione glowering at me.

The rest of the Gryffindors, however, looked quite pleased with me. I'd gotten us a net total of five points, after all.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Mister Potter was breathing a little bit too loudly just now."

A loud groan erupted from my half of the room and Potter looked stunned beyond words.

I made up my mind immediately.

I loved Severus Snape.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore surveyed the people around him. The Professors seemed to be in a bad mood despite it being only the start of the term. He suspected the reintroduction of the Weasley Twins after a long absence from red-haired menaces probably played a large part in that.

Though according to Minerva, a new white-haired contender was catching up in the ranks of her 'most aggravating students to teach' list.

When Snape strolled into the room with his usual flair, Albus harrumphed. "Thank you Binns, but now that Severus has arrived, you can stop telling us about the Goblin War."

Instead of stopping, the ghost of a Professor simply walked out of the office, still babbling on about events that transpired centuries ago. Soon, Dumbledore realised, the contents of Binns' never-ending lectures would be classified as ancient history and they would need a new History of Magic Professor. Idly, he wondered if letting Binns go would be the trigger to helping the ghost find peace.

"So," he said, turning his attention back to his Profeesors. "How are the children?"

He was looking at McGonagall and Severus as he said this, because those two were the most vocal about problem children. Then again, most problem children came from their respective houses.

"Awful," said Minerva.

"Passable," said Severus.

For a moment, Dumbledore could say nothing. Had they somehow pulled one over him and swapped voices? Judging by the surprised expressions they were giving each other, they hadn't.

"... can I ask why?" Dumbledore enquired.

"Merlin Pendragon," they said in unison, surprising everyone in the room once again.

"He's disruptive," Minerva said.

"He's well-read," Severus replied back. "And well-prepared, he keeps a bezoar in his pocket."

She glared at Severus. "He's not. He's left his wand at home."

At this, even Severus seemed momentarily stunned. Dumbledore immediately took the opportunity to separate the fight. "Then... how does he perform magic?"

"Wandlessly," said Minerva. "And silently."

"He's talented," Severus immediately cut in.

"Reckless," Minerva argued back.

While the two bickered, Dumbledore shuddered. A first-year... doing advanced magic wandlessly and silently? It only cemented his suspicions. This was no Tom Riddle. This wasn't another Voldemort in the making. Merlin wasn't a lost child in need of guidance.

He did not know what string Cornelius Fudge had pulled, or what corners of the Earth the Minister had scoured to find the unexplainable phenomenon that was Merlin Pendragon. All he knew was that he'd greatly underestimated the Minister's foresight.

He'd done a little digging. He'd hit a bedrock of red tape, security restrictions, and tempered records very quickly. Merlin Pendragon's sudden inclusion into Hogwarts reeked of Ministerial intervention. Because of the timing, he had no doubt that Harry Potter was at the centre of this all.

"The situation has become a bit more complicated," Dumbledore admitted. "Needless to say, I do not think Merlin is an ordinary student."

"But he is _still a student_ ," Minerva emphasized. "Special circumstances or not, there are basic rules and expectations that have to be met, if not for his own learning, then for the sake of the others'. Young Miss Granger will feel as if all her diligence is for naught if we allow him to get away with his lackadaisical attitude."

"Does anyone else have something to say?" he asked. The other Professors chose to remain mum. "Severus?"

"Transfer him to Slytherin," the Potions Professor requested. "You will be doing us both a favour."

He had no power to do such a thing, but for the sake of the moment, he leveled a look at Minerva. He could see the gears turning in the woman's head. She was considering it.

"No. Merlin must stay in Gryffindor," she decided. "You will spoil him rotten in Slytherin, Severus. Even if Hogwarts can teach him nothing of magic, as his House Head, I will ensure that he at least learns to be a fine young gentlemen."

Severus said nothing.

"Well then," Dumbledore said. "For anybody teaching Merlin, I want to know every single thing he does in your lessons. I have no idea what Cornelius is thinking, but I can't let such a fascinating child walk through our halls without getting to know him."

* * *

Pandemonium.

" _That's not a real sky_ ," Ron poorly mimicked Hermione's know-it-all tone. " _It's just an illusion_."

"It's supposed to be!" Hermione screamed. "The book said it's just an enchanted ceiling. It's imaginary!"

"I'm not sure about you, Hermione," Harry tried to say as calmly as possible. "But all this rain landing on me feels very _real_."

On cue, a bolt of lightning struck the table, cooking a pile of steaks well-done and the students around covered their ears before the ensuing thunder boomed.

"This is all Merlin's fault! Look at him! He's completely dry!"

Of course I was dry. I knew the water-repelling charm. Also, I'd set up the miniature storm such that I was its eye, because the last thing I wanted was for rainwater to dilute this amazing pumpkin soup in front of me.

Rain pelted down in the Great Hall. The ceiling displayed dark, ominous clouds, streaks of lightning running through them occasionally. Many students had carried their plates and crawled underneath the table to eat. Some of the older ones had cast repellent charms to escape the rain. Dumbledore had conjured a seemingly endless supply of umbrellas, which were now slowly floating towards the tables.

I could see the amusement that flooded his features. I doubted this had ever happened before. The teachers, on the other hand, looked livid. Snape was scowling. McGonagall looked as red as the apple—never mind, it exploded in her hand. Quirrell seemed to look up at the sky nervously, his lips moving in prayer.

"Stop blaming Merlin for everything, Hermione!" Ron shouted. "Maybe you're just wrong this one time!"

No, she was absolutely right, but I wasn't going to confess to the crime just for her sake.

School was getting boring fast. Without any learning to be done, Hogwarts was really just a trial for me to amuse myself for an entire semester. Summoning a thunderstorm during dinner and watching everybody go nuts could only do so much to alleviate my boredom.

Perhaps tomorrow, I would go and explore the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

 **A/N: This fic is now my guilty pleasure. It's something I write when I'm taking a break from my other commitments. So while updates might be sporadic, chances are low of it getting abandoned.**


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